


Entwined Sorcery: Year Two

by FullmetalDetective (MusicianInTraining)



Series: Entwined Sorcery [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Entwined Sorcery, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:02:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 65,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicianInTraining/pseuds/FullmetalDetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even without Edward, Alphonse has chosen to continue on and become a first year student. Hogwarts knows well of the Elric brother's dark secret, but just how cursed is their tale? Something wicked lies in its sewers, something nobody could foresee..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good News And Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> I am please to present the sequel to "Entwined Sorcery," "Entwined Sorcery: Year Two," a story also copied over from my ff.net account. However, this one is one I am still working on completing, so stay tuned for more chapters being posted soon if you have taken a liking to the Elric's adventures. Enjoy!
> 
> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Prologue: Good News And Bad News~

 

The city of Central, Amestris looked deadeningly still in the wee hours of the night that foreshadowed the break of day. All military and public operations had long since ceased, so the streets were barren and dark. The clock tower was the strongest source of illumination to be found, for many of the streetlamps were faulty and dim. A shadow could easily slip by completely unnoticed in the night…and two shadows did exactly that this eve.

Lust and Gluttony made easy work of slipping down beneath the city’s streets, going through what was said to be an abandoned research facility by the military. It was very comical to all of the Homunculi, how they were plotting to destroy all of these pathetically blind humans right under their completely unsuspecting noses. It made the scheme just that much more fun.

Their trip this night was not one of humor, however, for they were in big trouble, much to their great misfortune.

Right as they entered through the metal door leading to their kind’s hideout, a dark shadow moved onto their path, his grin a mile wide and spreading.

“About time you guys show up!”

Lust crossed her arms, leaning up against the doorframe and fixating her most unamused expression upon the figure.

“Come to gloat, have you, Envy?”

The one she called Envy stepped out of the shadows and flipped his hair out of his face.

“Oh, so I _do_ have reason to gloat? Well, that sure makes this meeting much more fun.”

“Shut up,” Lust said exasperatedly. “Gluttony and I are going to have a hard enough time explaining this to Father. We don’t need your stupid remarks on top of that.”

At this comment Envy pouted.

“That was rude; how could you possibly call this adorable face stupid?”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Lust said in reply, pushing past him, beginning her descent downstairs to the one they called ‘Father’s’ lair. Envy followed closely behind her and Gluttony.

“Well,” Lust spoke up again, “Make yourself useful and catch me up on everything we’ve missed since we left for Britain.”

“You haven’t missed much,” Envy said, examining his nails. “Greed went AWOL again.”

“That was to be expected,” Lust said boredly. Envy nodded once in agreement.

“Other than that nothing else has changed. Just the same filthy humans doing their filthy human things.”

“How dull.”

“Exactly.”

“Lust?” Gluttony suddenly whined in the darkness. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re _always_ hungry…”

Finally, they made it down to the large, circular-shaped room that held their creator, who sat expectantly upon a throne of wires, his light blonde hair hanging loosely upon his shoulders, his golden eyes staring down at his Homunculi.

“Envy.”

The spikey-haired Homunculus looked up at his master, a look of questioning in his eyes.

“…Aren’t you supposed to be currently stationed in East City?”

“Just taking a break for the night, and then I’ll head back tomorrow…”

He grinned nastily before continuing:

“I wanted to hear all about the news that Lust and Gluttony have brought to you.”

Lust frowned.

“Are you trying to pick a fight, Envy?”

“Is it working?”

Father cleared his throat, a load and threatening noise that resounded darkly throughout the room, shutting up the bickering monsters at once. He stared at Envy for a long moment, deciphering his facial expression for all it’s worth, and then turned back to Lust.

“Tell me what you found at that school.”

Lust blew a piece of hair out her face and began:

“Well, the older Elric boy was there, just as we thought he was, and he was there as one of the magic students of all things.”

“Magic?” Envy asked, to which Lust nodded.

“The school is called Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It is a magic school.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s true,” Gluttony piped up. “There were people flying around on broomsticks and the students and teachers all had wands that they used.”

“So you’re saying that the little pipsqueak is a _wizard_.”

“Pretty much.”

Envy shook his head in disbelief but remained silent as Lust continued her report.

“We weren’t able to go beyond the castle’s walls because of some weird security thing they had up around the perimeter, but we managed to keep to the forest outside of the school, and eventually Edward showed up there and we were able to talk to him, telling him about how he and his brother need to remain in Amestris.”

“Did you see the one they call Lord Voldemort?” Father suddenly inquired, much to the Homunculi’s surprise. Lust looked back at Gluttony, then back towards Father…and then a mischievous grin slowly spread across her face.

“In a manner of speaking, yes; he couldn’t talk for long, unfortunately, but it was probably for the better. After all, he didn’t seem quite himself, did he Gluttony?”

The fat man shook his pudgy head and interjected: “He had to share a body with someone else.”

“So you can take comfort in the fact that he cannot travel too much at the moment,” Lust finished, chuckling softly to herself. Father was unamused but did not speak in protest against his creations’ lack of seriousness. Half of the information he sought was given. As for the other half…

“And what of the Elric boy?”

Lust’s smile vanished on the spot, and Envy took up the evil grin, eager to watch her squirm. The female Homunculus looked back at her gluttonous counterpart, who down casted his eyes and stuffed his fat thumb into his mouth, leaving Lust to be the one to admit their unsuccessfulness. Lust sighed:

“We managed to convince the Elric boy to return to Amestris. He went straight back home to Resembool and is currently studying intensely for his State Alchemist’s exam.”

Envy raised an eyebrow:

“The runt wants to be a State Alchemist? This should be interesting…”

Father continued to stare at Lust.

“…There is something you’re not telling me.”

Lust pursed her lips, refusing to look at the eager Envy.

“Fine. Even though we brought Edward back to Amestris…”

Gluttony looked up at Father, shaking slightly with nervousness as Lust finished her confession.

“…Alphonse Elric has now decided to leave for Hogwarts in the fall.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~


	2. Sorcerous Summertime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward has a test to take, and Alphonse is...bored...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter One: Sorcerous Summertime~

 

“What if I wave my wand and nothing happens?”

Edward huffed in exasperation. Ever since they had returned home from Hogwarts at the end of the school year, Alphonse had bombarded Edward with countless questions about the Wizarding World and the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Never once did Ed dare to hinder Al’s excitement and eagerness to learn, but whenever the young Elric’s questions became rigged with uncertainty and unnecessary nervousness, Ed got annoyed.

“If that happens don’t worry about it, practice makes perfect,” Ed responded, remembering his first Charms lesson and how everybody in the class struggled to some degree. “Trust me, Al, you won’t be the only one.”

“But what if I am? Or…oh no! What if Mr. Ollivander won’t be able to find a wand for me at all? _Then_ what?”

“Then we call him an old hag and find a better wand-maker!”

Ed shook his head: “I seriously doubt that would happen, though—you saw how many boxes of wands the man had in that cramped shop of his. There has to be at least one that suits you.”

Al mulled over this statement, allowing Ed to return to his books. In less than four days the elder Elric would be travelling to Central City to take his State Alchemist’s exam, which consisted of both a written test about all things alchemy and a small exhibition before the Führer himself. It was extremely difficult for a well-seasoned adult alchemist to pass, let alone a twelve-year-old, but Ed was determined to get his silver pocket watch, and Al just knew he would, for whenever his big brother set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. Despite their confidence, however, it was always better to be safe than sorry, which is why the two brothers had spent most of the summer sparring and studying in their father’s study…and despite the fact that he greatly disagreed with the idea of Edward joining the military on his behalf, Alphonse was ever-supportive all summer long, helping to quiz the determined alchemist and help him prepare for the treacherous challenge that laid before him.

The day Al received his Hogwarts letter was one of the main highlights of the summer.

“Brother?”

Ed looked up from his book and back at Al.

“…What if I can’t use a wand at all because of my armor?”

Ed opened his mouth to deny Alphonse’s concern……but froze. Out of all his little brother’s worries, this one was definitely the most plausible yet. After all, Ed himself had quite a bit of issues when he tried to use his wand with his right hand, the limb made of metal rather than flesh. What would happen when Al tried to perform magic, with his soul being stuck in that inhuman suit of armor? Would it be different for him, since his soul is embedded into the metal of his armor, or would he never be able to use a wand because of his lack of a human body?

“Brother?”

Ed racked his brain for a good answer. After all, it was not as if he could not use his wand with his right arm at all…it just wouldn’t work as well…or maybe that was because he had such a huge mental block against magic at the time…

“…I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that, Alphonse.”

“Really?”

Ed smiled: “Really. You’re more open-minded than me; you’ll be able to grasp wandwork a lot faster than I did.”

But Ed still was not positive the answer he gave was exactly the right one…but he supposed they would all find out when they went to Ollivander’s.

Just then, a ruffle of crisp, brown feathers floated through the window and landed upon Alphonse’s shoulder, her talons making a soft _chink_ against the metallic surface. Al lifted his hand up to her beak, and Nova dropped the letter being held in her mouth onto the younger Elric’s palm. Ed glanced up from his book and immediately recognized Hermione Granger’s neat handwriting upon the envelope, which read _Edward and Alphonse_.

“You want to open it, Brother?”

“Nah, you go ahead and read it,” Ed said with a wave of his automail hand. “I want to finish taking notes on this chapter before dinner—“

THU- _THUD_!

Both Elric’s heads jerked towards the window, where a large, crumpled Great Grey owl had managed to face-plant into the glass, even though it was opened plenty wide enough for its whole body to fit through with ease.

“Errol!” Ed and Al shouted, and Al sprung up from his place on the office floor to rescue the Weasley family’s old owl, who was now slowly sliding down the glass, his left eye twitching in pain. Nova fell back herself, her little beak agape with tweeting laughter at the elderly creature. _That’s what you get for trying to race me!_ she thought scathingly. Under her petite master’s glare, however, she immediately shut up, though reluctantly.

“You’re so annoying…” Ed muttered at Nova, who returned his glare with the burning fury of a thousand suns, her eye twitching much like Errol’s had just mere seconds before.

Al returned bearing a disgruntled-looking Errol in one hand—decidedly not injured as much as irked that Nova outdid him—and a letter from Ron in the other. This one he tossed to Ed, who sighed heavily.

“I guess a break won’t kill me…”

“That’s the spirit, Ed!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed laughed, tearing open Ron’s letter and reading the contents within:

 

_Hey Ed, Al,_

_Can I spar with you two sometime? It sounds like fun…except you’d have to let me use my wand, you know, just to make it fair…which means that we’d have to do it at Hogwarts…we can make this happen, I’ve got this. We’ll just have to kidnap you from the military, ok Ed? Speaking of, isn’t your State Whatchamacallit’s exam on Friday? If so, good luck to you in case we don’t talk before you go. I know you’ll pull an Edward kick all their butts!_

_And no, Al; Quidditch isn’t a type of dance. It’s a wizarding sport, tell your brother to explain it, because if I did this letter would be about ten pages long with my handwriting. Each house at Hogwarts has a team, and Harry’s the Seeker on the Gryffindor team—which will hopefully be the house you’re in, our house. I’m sure you’ll get in it; after all, Ed’s in it, and the Sorting Hat wouldn’t separate brothers, would it? I mean, so far everyone in my family (and you know how big we are…) has been Gryffindors. Ginny’s really worried that she’s gonna break that tradition, though, and no matter how much we try to talk some sense into her, she’s still paranoid. Ed, is Al being like that, too? I sure hope I wasn’t this bad last year; I know you probably weren’t, though, since you live with Muggles. Either that or you just read up on everything…yeah, knowing you that’s it. Toss Al a copy of Hogwarts: A History next time he asks a question! Haha, no offense, of course, Al; just the complaints of an older brother._

_Mum’s been begging me to have you both over before the end of the summer. I told her we’re all waiting to hear from Harry first…any luck on that? Have either of you gotten any letters from him lately? I haven’t, and last I talked to Hermione, she said the same thing, that he hasn’t been returning any of our letters. I hope he’s ok; he lives with those Muggles, y’know…If this goes on much longer, I say we fly over there and steal him from his aunt and uncle. I can probably get Fred and George in on it, and between you and me, dad messed with the car to make it able to fly. We can all pile up in there and pick up Harry in it and bring him over to the Burrow, and technically we can’t get in any trouble with the Ministry for doing that either, since_ we _weren’t the ones who magicked the car! Brilliant, right?_

_I’ll keep in touch with you two and probably send you another owl sometime after Friday, so that both of you can come over. And then we can all go to Diagon Alley from the Burrow to get all of our schoolbooks (talking specifically to Al in that case, I guess…man, it’s going to be weird at Hogwarts without you, Ed, it really is) and what-not. Until then, see ya!_

_Ron_

Hermione’s letter was similar in nature:

_Dear Ed and Al,_

_Do be careful with that sparring, you two; I know it’s all for practice and all, but you two could seriously injure yourselves. The last thing you need to do before that big State Alchemist’s exam is to break something, Ed. Speaking of which, good luck to you, I know you’ll do great with all the studying you have done to prepare for it! What all do you have to do for that? You said something about it being made up of multiple parts, right? Do you have to transmute something for them? That would be great if you did, since you have the rare ability to perform a transmutation without drawing a circle (if been doing some reading on alchemy for fun, in case you couldn’t tell; it’s all quite interesting!), that would be a good way of showing off to them, you know. If you do that, you are bound to get in._

_I was wondering, if you have any time after you big exam and if you two get to go over Ron’s at some point, if you all could show me a few simple transmutations? I’d love to learn how to do a bit of alchemy myself, it sounds like a very old and powerful form of magic. I wonder if Hogwarts has a class on it…_

_Anyways, I’m starting to get really worried about Harry, you two. Have you heard anything from him? Ron said he hasn’t, and that he’d like to steal him from his aunt and uncle’s house. I told him that was a preposterous idea and that he was likely to be expelled if he did that—if he tries getting you two in on it, don’t do it, especially you, Alphonse. How awful would it be to get expelled from Hogwarts before your first year even begins?_

_Have you looked at the books list? There are so many books by Gilderoy Lockhart on it, an entire collection’s worth. I haven’t gotten my books yet, but I can’t wait to get ahold of them so that I can start studying; I feel like it would be a good idea to read all of the Lockhart books before classes start, just in case the teacher quizzes us. I would not want to start the year on a bad note. When are you two planning on going to Diagon Alley? We should all go together, along with Ron and Harry…that is, if we manage to get in touch with him before then. Even though you’re not returning to school next year, Ed, you should come with us. I do hope you’ll be able to; I’d like to see you at least once before we split ways for the year. After all, I’m really going to miss hanging out and studying with you at Hogwarts, Ed. I wish you didn’t have to go, but I can understand. I don’t have any siblings, but I know that I would go to the same lengths to help them…to save them if I did. Be grateful of your brother, Al, he really does love you._

_Well, keep in touch, and do tell me all about the exam, Ed! Maybe we’ll find out what’s going on with Harry and be able to meet up at Ron’s house soon. Until them, have a good summer, and be safe!_

_Hermione_

She too would miss him this coming school year at Hogwarts. Ed tried his best to brush off these statements without much success, for even though most of his first year was knee-deep in lies, it was filled to the brim with many grand memories and events that could bring a smile to his face, no matter how tortured his soul felt. It would be missed, the great mystery and wonder that was Hogwarts, but it was for the best that Ed not return; he had a responsibility to his brother, just as Hermione had said.

Alphonse re-read Ron’s letter, Nova and Errol still perched on his shoulders. He was so grateful to Ed’s friends for including him into their group immediately upon meeting him. When he voiced this to Ed at the beginning of the summer, though, the blonde laughed out loud, saying, “That can be both a good thing and a bad thing, Al. They’re probably looking forward to dragging you along in their next great adventure, involving dark wizards and turbans and what-not.”

Though Al was not so sure about the dark wizards and turbans, he was up for an adventure. After all, why should Ed have all the fun?

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Dumbledore was having a major déja vù moment as he sat behind his grand desk, his beloved phoenix Fawkes perched next to him, his adolescent feathers rustling as he craned his neck to look curiously over his master’s shoulder. The headmaster could distinctly remember a time, approximately a year ago, when he received a very similar letter to the very one he held in his hands. It was from one of the most intelligent, most unique students that Hogwarts had ever seen in its long history, and it was extremely disheartening in nature. However, Albus Dumbledore could not honestly say that he did not see this coming, especially from Edward Elric.

At that moment a knock was heard from far across his cavernous office. Dumbledore looked up over his half-moon spectacles:

“Enter.”

Fawkes straightened back up as Minerva McGonagall walked through the door and approached Dumbledore’s desk. She bore a questioning look on her face, one that only deepened in severity upon seeing the envelope that held Edward’s letter to the headmaster in it. She recognized the handwriting, despite the fact that she had graded countless papers and read hundreds of kids essays all year long last year. The distinct scrawl was identical to the writing that was scrawled across her classrooms walls when Ed served his detention last year for punching Malfoy.

“Don’t tell me…” she began cautiously. “He’s dropping out, isn’t he?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“But _why_?” McGonagall said, a tone of regret tinting her voice. “He was such a good student, and he was becoming quite good in his classes!”

“I know, Professor,” was Dumbledore’s equally regretful reply. “Read the letter for yourself, if you wish.”

The headmaster sat patiently as she read, folding his hands and resting them upon his desk atop a copy of the supplies list for first-years. It was a slightly lengthy letter, offering up a long but clear explanation upon his reasons for leaving school. He was respectful to his headmaster, despite no longer being one of his students. Professor McGonagall, Ed’s former Head of House, frowned deeply at the last sentence:

_I will never forget Hogwarts and how much I learned in my short stay there; thank you once more for believing in me, Professor._

“I can’t believe he’s just giving up like this,” McGonagall said after sweeping her gaze across the boy’s signature. She looked back up at Dumbledore, who said nothing to either agree or challenge her statement.

“I mean, honestly, what good will the military do him?”

“You may be surprised, Minerva,” Dumbledore spoke finally. “Have you ever had the chance to visit the country of Amestris?”

McGonagall shook her head:

“The closest I’ve ever gotten to it was Drachma, but even that was over two and a half decades ago.”

“Ah. Well, the entire area has changed quite a bit since then. The military has an unbelievable amount of power, especially the branch in which the State Alchemists work at. Though they are only considered to be at the ranking of a Major, they hold much more overall influence.”

“Not particularly _positive_ influences, I’d imagine.”

Dumbledore nodded once.

“That is precisely why I urged him to remain here at Hogwarts. There is more than one way to achieve what he seeks, and the only way the Amestrian military has to offer will not be appealing to him at all.”

“Did you tell him this?” McGonagall inquired. “Did you explain everything you’re telling me to him?”

“Yes, to a certain extent,” Dumbledore said, sighing. “I did not elaborate entirely.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because, Minerva…there are certain things a twelve-year-old mind simply should not know of, especially one with such a positive view of magic. It is best for him to build up to such knowledge rather than to simply be told of it.”

“But if you had told him he would not have left!” McGonagall said, and then stopped herself before she would say something she would regret. “…He’s going to find out eventually.”

“Yes.”

“But you would rather him find out from the military—which already has a bad reputation—than from the magic school he knows and cherishes…I understand.”

Dumbledore nodded:

“Precisely.”

McGonagall sighed: “Gryffindor house will miss Edward Elric.”

“Don’t worry; I’m going to hazard to guess that young Alphonse will be taking up his place soon enough.”

Dumbledore tilted his head to the side.

“Now, Minerva, I doubt you came in just for the sheer enjoyment of conversing with me.”

“…Right,” McGonagall stuttered, feeling slightly foolish for forgetting her initial reason for visiting the headmaster. “A black owl delivered this to me by mistake. I don’t know how it mistook me for you, but here it is, nonetheless.”

Dumbledore looked over his spectacles at the letter in her hands and graciously took it from her possession.

“Thank you. Did not recognize the owl, I presume?”

“No, sir, it didn’t look like a ministry owl, if that’s what you mean.”

“Ah, good. It’s nice to receive the occasional friendly letter,” Dumbledore said, flipping the letter over in his hands. “Thank you very much, Minerva.”

“Of course; have a good evening, sir.”

“I shall try to…”

He turned back to his new, unopened letter after he was left to his (and Fawkes’) devices, trying to place the handwriting. He recognized it, he knew its master, but a name was not popping into his mind for some reason. Dumbledore decided upon not furthering the stalling and carefully ripped open the envelope, revealing a two-page letter written in black ink but signed in gold. After first reading and then re-reading the contents carefully, he deduced not only that it was not meant to be a friendly letter, but it was from someone who was supposedly missing from the face of the earth. No, rather it was a warning, a dark message that only a well-seasoned wizard would understand, and who it was from…

Dumbledore looked up at Fawkes, his face stoic so as to not bear any clues upon the contents of the message. The words from the page, however, repeated themselves in his head, in the voice of the writer’s rather than his own subconscious tonality…

“…Perhaps it is a good thing that Edward Elric is not returning this year.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Friday came all too quickly for the Elrics and the Rockbells. Ed felt that he was ready for anything after all the studying and practicing he had done, but that did not help to alleviate any of his nerves, though, for it took extremely great skill to become a State Alchemist. The written portion he knew he would excel at, but the practical…who knows what the others will do.

The sky was a dull gray in color, the clouds constantly threatening to let loose droplets of warm summer rain upon Ed’s head as he walked to the train station, re-reading the brochure he practically had memorized. He remembered when he had received it, and remembered reading it this time last summer with the same intent in mind. All had changed with just one simple letter, written upon thick parchment and addressed in emerald-colored ink…

Edward sighed heavily; now was not the time to think about magic. Now was the time to focus on alchemy…

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Alphonse walked back into the Rockbell Prosthetic Limb Outfitters before the rain began to fall, hoping that either Winry or Granny Pinako would have something for him to do to get his mind off of his brother. He couldn’t help but wish Ed had decided against the whole military idea, but he knew it was a wish in vain.

Winry stumbled out onto the front porch just before Al could open the door, colliding with the ponytailed blonde awkwardly.

“Oof! Ow, Al!”

“Sorry, Winry!” apologized the boy, who quickly offered a large leather-gloved hand out to the fallen mechanic.

“It’s ok,” she said as she hoisted herself back up, straightening out her bandanna. “No harm done.”

Winry glanced out at the steadily falling rain and sighed as she sat down upon her grandmother’s favorite rocking chair. Al followed her gaze for a moment of long silence, but looked back at her when she spoke up in a slightly hoarse voice:

“I miss him already…”

Al paused, and then nodded once in agreement.

“Me too. But he’ll be back soon enough.”

“Yeah, but for how long? How much longer will he be able to stay in Resembool before they whisk him away?”

“I don’t know,” Al said honestly. He took two steps forward until he was right on the edge of the porch’s cover, right behind the curtain of rainfall. He extended his right arm, cupping his gloved hand and catching a small bowl’s worth of water in his grasp.

“I hope his automail works ok,” Winry piped up suddenly. “I mean, I did a couple of routine checks just before he left and stuffed some cleaning supplies into his bag and what-not, but you never know with him—I mean, he _did_ manage to break it pretty good earlier this year, and that was _after_ Dumbledore did his repairs—!”

“Winry,” Al said, a laugh in his voice. “You’re the most amazing automail mechanic we know! Nothing is going to happen to Ed because of your automail.”

Winry looked up at Al and smiled.

“Thanks, Al. You’re so sweet.”

“Just speaking the truth,” Al said with a shrug. Before Winry could reply, however, the young Elric swung his giant metal arm around and tossed the water in his hand at her. The look of shock on her dampened face sent him into a fit of hysterics, but he recovered quickly and sprinted off down the porch when her expression changed from surprise to fury.

“ALPHONSE!!” she shrieked, leaping up from the rocking chair. “If it weren’t for that blood seal, I’d pour a freaking bucket of water over your head!”

“Nice try, but you’ll have to catch me first!”

Just as he said that, however, Winry did catch him, and in a tumult of laughing metal and flesh face planting onto the porch, Alphonse surrendered to the fearsome automail mechanic. At that moment, after hearing the giant commotion, Granny Pinako emerged from the house, escorting a young man bearing a newly refurbished automail hand out and offering up his umbrella.

“Thanks, Pinako, I needed some fixin’ up!” the man said, flexing his knuckles gratefully. Pinako smiled at him and waved as he trotted out into the rain and quickly got in his car so as to get home before the brunt of the storm hit. Pinako waited until he had driven off, then turned to face Winry and Al, fixating her sternest of glares upon them.

“…Sorry, Granny—“they began, but were cut off immediately by the wave of her hand.

“Just get inside you two, _especially_ you, Al. You’re practically a walking lightning rod out in this weather.”

“I am?” Al said, confusedly glancing up at the sky. “But there’s no thunder or—“

CRRRAASH!!!

“Meep!” Al squeaked in shock, rapidly following Winry and Pinako into the sanctuary of their home.

“Told you; after you’ve lived here as long as I am, you get to the point that you can flawlessly predict weather patterns,” Pinako said matter-of-factly, sitting back in her chair and lighting her pipe. Al sat down on the couch next to Winry, who was sorting through the pile of mail and letters on the coffee table before her. Many of them were order forms and records of hers and Granny’s customers (anything of great importance to the shop she handed over to Granny), but there was the occasional letter from one of Ed or Al’s friends that got accidently abandoned on top of the table, or discarded military brochures and letters of Ed’s. Winry handed over the letters to Al, but all of the military-based items…neither seemed to know what to do with them. Eventually Granny took them from their possession, and finally the coffee table could once again be visible. The only thing left on top of it was Alphonse’s acceptance letter to Hogwarts, which he quickly scooped up and re-read for the umpteenth time.

If he could have smiled he would have; if anything could cheer Alphonse up, it was the idea of attending a magic school in the fall.

“Probably won’t see any more customers today because of the weather, Winry,” Granny Pinako spoke up suddenly. “Mind cleaning up the workbench a bit?”

“Of course not,” Winry said, rising from her seat. Alphonse followed suit, immediately offering to help her.

“So when is your friend Ron going to have you over?” was the first question that bubbled out of Winry’s mouth once they got set to working on the messy desks and scattered tools. Al paused to hang up three small wrenches on their posts upon the wall, and then shrugged his huge armored shoulders.

“He said he wanted to wait until we could get ahold of Harry, but who knows how long that’ll be.”

“You mean you all haven’t heard from him all summer?” Winry said, tossing him a damp rag to clean up an oil stain from atop one of the desks.

“Nope. He won’t reply to our letters.”

“I hope he’s ok…”

“Same here,” Al said, tossing the rag back to Winry. “His aunt and uncle aren’t exactly the kindest people in the world, after all. They could have done something to him. That’s what Ed and Ron told me, at least.”

Winry frowned, setting the mallet in her hand down upon the workbench.

“…Maybe you guys should go check up on him.”

Alphonse looked at her, considering the idea. He had never been to Harry’s house, and neither has Ed from his knowledge. Ron knows where he lives, and he _did_ say something about stealing him away from his relatives, but…that could be dangerous. And like Hermione said, he could jeopardize his admittance into Hogwarts. It could be a risk not worth taking; but then again, what if Harry really _is_ in trouble?

“Yeah. You’re right…”

Alphonse glanced up at the clock on the wall above the workbench they had just finished cleaning.

“…Ok. I’m going to write to Ron. Thanks Winry!”

Winry watched him leave the room in confusion.

“…Uhm…you’re welcome, I think?”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

On a moonless night like this one, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looks particularly spooky and mystical. Fog sat upon the lake, like a sleeping Patronus, guarding the creatures underneath the water’s black crest. Greenhouse three casted multiple shadows across the lawn due to the tentacle-like vines and lively potted plants, ever awake despite the hour. The owlery was the liveliest place; its nocturnal residents hooted and were flying about, going off to hunt, conversing with one another’s feathery presence.

Every shining eye in the dark towered place froze upon Dumbledore when he entered. They were confused, trifled as to what the headmaster was up to. Only one owl seemed to understand all, the Visitor, and surprisingly enough, that was the one owl that Dumbledore seemed to have business with this night. Its golden eyes, shining in the low light of Dumbledore’s illuminated wand, bored into the old wizards being, making him appear as wise as or even more knowledgeable than the warlock. Even before Dumbledore extracted the parchment envelope from his cloak did the owl offer up its services, flying up and out of its temporary nest and landed sharply upon the wizard’s shoulder. Dumbledore observed the owl up close as he attached his letter to the dark creature’s leg, whispered one single question to it:

“…Where is your master?”

Needless to say the owl did not reply; after a brief blink of its Galleon-like eyes, turned away from the headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore relinquished the owl, bowing once in respect for its mysterious aura. Thus, the owl flew up and away—a raven, turned invisible against the moonless sky.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Alphonse was surprised at the briskness of Ron’s reply. He had just sent Nova out the previous evening, once the storm had cleared up, and here she was the following evening bearing a freshly written reply from the redhead. She seemed pretty excited about this one, too, because she wouldn’t leave the armored boy alone until he opened it up. With a huff, Al sat down upon Pinako’s sofa and opened the letter:

 

_Al,_

_I agree, we need to get Harry out of there. How soon can you come over? Even if Ed isn’t back yet, you should come to the Burrow so we can find out what’s going on with Harry; Ed can meet us there as soon as he gets home from taking his big test, ok?_

_Get over here ASAP!_

_Ron_

“…W-what??”

“What is it, Alphonse?”

Al handed Granny Pinako the letter, Nova still perched expectantly upon his metallic shoulder. She seemed to be ready to go, but Al wasn’t sure Ron understood what he meant in his last letter. He just wanted to check in on Harry, not steal him from his house!

“Sounds like he wants you to go over his house tonight,” the old woman finally said in response to the letter’s message. “So shouldn’t you be getting your stuff together?”

“You sure I should go?” Al said, still troubled by the message. “I mean, we could get in trouble, and—“

“Ah, come on Al,” Winry said suddenly, appearing in the doorway, a mischievous grin upon her face. “As if you’ve never broken a rule in your life.”

“Judging by all of the messes that Ed got into at that school, this is only the beginning anyway,” Granny pointed out.

Al pondered over this statement, remembering an earlier conversation he and his big brother had just before he left for Central. _They’re probably looking forward to dragging you along in their next great adventure_ is what Ed had teasingly warned Al about his wizard friends. Just judging by the contents of this most recent letter from Ron, the blonde alchemist was completely right.

“…You’re right,” Al said, looking over at Nova. “Looks like we’re going over Ron’s house.”

The little owl let out a delighted hoot and flew up and off of Al’s shoulder in excitement.

The next ten minutes following the young Elric’s decision was spent gathering up the few items he would take with him. In the midst of these preparations, Al told Winry to pass along the invitation to Edward once he got back from his State Alchemist’s Exam.

“Tell him to go to the Burrow, ok?”

“Got it. Now go, before it gets too late.”

Alphonse laughed as he clambered into the fireplace.

“It doesn’t matter what time it is here, Winry; there’s a time change about two or three hours long from here to Britain.”

And with that last statement, he grabbed a small fistful of Floo Powder and shouted: “The Burrow!”

The green flames engulfing his body of armor shocked him at first, but as soon as the spinning and the blurred sight of numerous fireplaces passing right through his vision began, it stopped. Despite the fact that he could not physically feel the dizziness and disorientation he was doubtlessly suffering from, Alphonse fell with a thud out of the Weasley’s fireplace.

“All right, Alphonse?”

Al hastily scrambled onto his feet at the sight of Ron’s twin brothers, Fred and George, grinning at him from the other side of the now-darkened fireplace.

“He’s here? About time!” came a voice from behind them, a voice that Al could easily recognize through the dimness of the room. Sure enough, Ron pushed past his brother’s, grinning a toothy, freckled grin at his armored friend.

“How’ve you been, Al?”

“Good,” Al said cheerfully as he brushed a bit of dust off of his loincloth.

“Good, because you’ve arrived just in time,” Fred announced grandly, then quickly hushed up when his twin nudged him in the ribs.

“You’ll wake mum!”

“Right…”

“We’re going to take dad’s flying car to break Harry out,” Ron briefly explained, “you know, the one I told you and Ed about in that letter?”

“It _flies_?” Al said, making sure to keep his voice down. “Won’t we get expelled?”

“Pssh, no!” Ron said, laughing. “It’s not like _we_ put the spell on it! So, you ready to go?”

Al glanced down at the cage Nova sat in, and then back at the twins identical grins.

“Yep; let’s go get Harry.”

“Alright!” Fred and George cheered, high-fiving Alphonse and running out the front door to the garage.

“Sweet! Glad you’re here, Al,” Ron said, a genuine smile on his face.

_They’re probably looking forward to dragging you along in their next great adventure._

“…My turn for an adventure,” the young Elric whispered, and then quickly ran after the Weasleys.

 

~~*e.s.*~~


	3. In A Wizard’s World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphonse is suddenly and forcefully thrust into the Wizarding World...and he doesn't mind it one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Two: In A Wizard’s World~

 

If Alphonse had facial expression still, he would have surely worn a look caught somewhere between surprise and extreme uncertainty.

“Uhm…” he spoke as Fred and George hopped into the front seats of Mr. Weasley’s little blue car, Fred eagerly revving up the engine. “What exactly is the, er, weight limit? ‘Cause, you know…I’m not exactly _light_.”

To his surprise, Ron chuckled at his honest concern.

“You sound like you brother; don’t worry, it’s an enchanted car, after all.”

“Alright, if you say so,” the young Elric said, following the redheaded boy into the back seat of the magical Ford Angela.

“Here we go!” Fred said, and soon enough the Burrow looked more and more like a tiny speck as the car climbed higher. Alphonse’s helmet was practically implanted into the window as he watched the midnight fields float by beneath them.

“Whoa,” Al breathed, enamored by the feeling of flying, with how small the world looked from up in the sky. He had always read about flying machines in books and writings, but he never dreamed that he’d one day take flight himself, let alone in a flying car, and _especially_ after he lost his body. After all, a giant walking suit of armor isn’t exactly aerodynamic. But now, as he flew over this dark, unfamiliar land with this carful of Weasleys…he was even more excited than before to attend Hogwarts.  

_I just hope I can do magic at all…_

“Heard anything from Ed?” George asked Al from the front seat. “Ron told us about that exam thing he has to take in order to join the military.”

“Yeah, he hasn’t written from Central yet,” said Al, turning his attention from the window to the redhead. “I guess the exam he’s taking is pretty long.”

“Well, he is joining the bloody military, after all,” Fred remarked. “They wouldn’t take just _any_ alchemist walking down the street, would they?”

“I expect they would, actually,” George said, glancing at his twin with a twinkle in his eye. Fred chortled:

“We’re not talking about _our_ military.”

“You’re going too far west,” George retorted.

Alphonse looked back out the window; everything from up high looked the same, especially when they flew away from pastures and over cities.

“You guys know where Harry lives, right?”

Ron nodded.

“We mapped it out before we left.”

“No that way, dummy!” George suddenly yelped, and Fred jerked at the wheel so roughly that Al toppled over Ron in the turbulence.

“Ow, Al, you’re crushing me!”

“Sorry, Ron!” the boy shrieked, hastily righting himself and re-adjusting his seatbelt. If he could, the young Elric knew he would probably be blushing in embarrassment at his clumsiness.

Travelling by flight was a vexingly quick method of travel to Alphonse, and before they knew it they had arrived in Little Whinging, where Harry Potter lived with his dreadful aunt and uncle.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

The room was growing dark. Exhausted, stomach rumbling, mind spinning over the same unanswerable questions, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep.

He dreamed that he was on show in a zoo, with a card reading UNDERAGE WIZARD attached to his cage. People goggled through the bars at him as he lay, starving and weak, on a bed of straw. He saw Dobby’s face in the crowd and shouted out, asking for help, but Dobby called, “Harry Potter is safe there, sir!” and vanished. Then the Dursleys appeared and Dudley rattled the bars of the cage, laughing at him.

“Stop it,” Harry muttered as the rattling pounded in his sore head. “Leave me alone…cut it out…I’m trying to sleep….”

He opened his eyes. Moonlight was shining through the bars on the window. And someone _was_ goggling through the bars at him: a freckled-faced, red-haired, long-nosed someone. Ron Weasley was outside Harry’s window.

“ _Ron!_ ” breathed Harry, creeping to the window and pushing it up. “Ron, how did you— _Alphonse?_ —What the—?”

Ron and Al laughed as Harry’s mouth fell open, the full impact of what he was seeing hitting him full-force in the face. Ron and Al (with some difficulty due to the sheer enormity of his armor) were leaning out of the back window of an old turquoise car, which was parked _in midair_. Grinning at Harry from the front seats were Fred and George, Ron’s elder twin brothers.

“All right, Harry?” asked George.

“What’s been going on?” said Ron.

“Yeah,” said Al with concern. “Why haven’t you been answering all our letters?”

“I asked you to stay about twelve times, and then Dad came home and said you’d got an official warning for using magic in front of Muggles—“

“It wasn’t me—and how did he know?”

“He works for the Ministry,” said Ron. “You _know_ we’re not supposed to do spells outside school—“

“You should talk,” said Harry, staring at the floating car. “Y’know, you could get expelled for this, Al.”

“You sound like Hermione,” Ron said in the young Elric’s defense, rolling his eyes. “Besides, this doesn’t count. It’s Dad’s, _we_ didn’t enchant it. But doing magic in front of those Muggles you live with—“

“I told you, I didn’t—but it’ll take too long to explain now—look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so—“

“Stop gibbering,” said Ron.

“We came to get you out,” Al said cheerfully.

“But you can’t magic me out either—“

“We don’t need to,” Al retorted, sitting back in his seat after unintentionally squishing Ron’s freckled face against the edge of the window. “Sorry again, Ron…”

“’S alright,” Ron said, rubbing the side of his face, and then he jerked his head toward the front seat and grinned. “You forget who I’ve got with me.”

“Tie that around the bars,” said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry.

“If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car.

“Don’t worry,” said Fred, “and stand back.”

Harry moved back into the shadows next to Hedwig, who seemed to have realized how important this was and kept still and silent. The car revved louder and louder and suddenly, with a crunching noise, the bars were pulled clean out of the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Harry ran back to the window as Fred drove straight up in the air. Harry ran back to the window to see the bars dangling a few feet above the ground. Panting, Ron hoisted them up into the car. Harry listened anxiously, but there was no sound from the Dursley’s bedroom.

When the bars were safely in the back seat with Ron, Fred reversed as close as possible to Harry’s window.

“Get in,” Ron said.

“But all my Hogwarts stuff—my wand—my broomstick—“

“Where is it?” Al asked.

“Locked in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can’t get out of this room—“

“No problem,” said George from the front passenger seat. “Out of the way, Harry.”

Fred and George climbed catlike through the window into Harry’s room. Alphonse and Ron watched as they picked their way through the lock on Harry’s bedroom door, sped down the stairs, and returned with all of Harry’s wizardly possessions in record time, carrying it through Harry’s room and to the open window. Fred climbed back into the car to pull with Ron and Al, and Harry and George pushed from the bedroom side. Inch by inch, the trunk slid through the window.

“A bit more,” panted Fred, who was pulling from inside the car. “One good push—“

Harry and George threw their shoulder against the trunk and it slid out of the window into the back seat of the car.

“Okay, let’s go,” George whispered.

But as Harry climbed onto the windowsill there came a sudden loud screech from behind him, followed immediately by the thunder of Uncle Vernon’s voice.

“THAT RUDDY OWL!”

“I’ve forgotten Hedwig!”

“How did you forget your _owl_??” Al questioned as Harry tore back across the room, snatching up Hedwig’s cage, and then dashing to the window and passing the irritated owl to Ron. He was scrambling back onto the chest of drawers when Uncle Vernon hammered on the unlocked door—and crashed it open.

For a split second, Uncle Vernon stood framed and frozen in the doorway; then he let out a bellow like an angry bull and dove towards Harry, grabbing him by the ankle.

Ron, Al, and Fred seized Harry’s arms and pulled as hard as they could.

“Let go!” Harry demanded of his crazed uncle, but the purple-faced man wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“Petunia!” roared Uncle Vernon. “He’s getting away! HE’S GETTING AWAY!”

But the young Elric and the Weasley brothers gave a gigantic tug and Harry’s leg slid out of Uncle Vernon’s grasp—Harry was in the car, which had suddenly become extremely cramped with the addition of a third person—“Ah! Sorry Harry!” apologized Alphonse—Ron slammed the door shut—

“Put your foot down, Fred!” yelled Ron, and the car shook slightly under the weight of its cargo before shooting suddenly and rapidly toward the moon. Harry couldn’t believe it—he was free. He rolled down the window, the night air whipping his hair, and looked back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive.

“See you next summer!” the scarred boy yelled down at the dumbstruck Dursleys remaining on the ground below.

The Weasleys roared with laughter as Harry grinned from ear to ear.

“Are they always that cruel?” Alphonse asked, both amazed and horrified at the display of such hatred he had witnessed just moments ago. Harry nodded, but shrugged it off.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m out of there now.”

“You were right, Ron,” Al said to the redhead next to him, “we did need to get him.”

“Let Hedwig out,” Harry told Ron. “She can fly behind us. She hasn’t had a chance to stretch her wings for ages.”

George handed the hairpin to Ron and, a moment later, Hedwig soared joyfully out of the window to glide alongside them like a ghost.

“So—what’s the story, Harry?” said Ron impatiently. “What’s been happening?”

Harry told them all about Dobby, the warning he’d given Harry and the fiasco of the violet pudding. There was a long, shocked silence when he had finished. Alphonse, for one thing, felt very confused on top of surprised.

“Very fishy,” said Fred finally.

“Definitely dodgy,” agreed George.

“What _is_ a house-elf, anyway?” Alphonse inquired. Ron looked at him:

“…I keep on forgetting that you come from a non-magic home,” he said, “especially since you’re an alchemist and all that.”

“House-elves are pretty much what their name says they are,” George explained.

“Kind of like wizard servants,” Fred added. “They do housework and cleaning and run the occasional errand for their masters.”

“Yeah, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to do the ironing,” said George. “But all we’ve got is a lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes all over the garden.”

Alphonse was smart enough to know better than to ask about the ghoul or the gnomes. He figured he’d see them for himself once they arrived back at the Burrow.

“House-elves come with big old manors and castles and places like that,” Fred saw fit to add. “You wouldn’t catch one in our house…”

George looked back at Harry:

“So he wouldn’t even tell you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?”

“I don’t think he could,” said Harry. “I told you, every time he got close to letting something slip, he started banging his head against the wall.”

He saw Fred and George look at each other.

“What, do you think he was lying to me?” said Harry.

“Well,” said Fred, “put it this way—house-elves have got powerful magic of their own, but they can’t usually use it without their master’s permission. I reckon old Dobby was sent to stop you coming back to Hogwarts. Someone’s idea of a joke. Can you think of anyone at school with a grudge against you?”

“Yes,” said Harry and Ron together, instantly.

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry explained. “He hates me.”

“He hates my brother, too,” Al said knowingly, internally making a face at the memory of Edward’s ranting about ‘the stupid, pompous smartass that deserved more than a good punch to the face.’ “Based on what Ed has told me, I could definitely see him doing something like that.”

“Draco Malfoy?” said George, turning around. “Not Lucius Malfoy’s son?”

“Must be, it’s not a very common name, is it?” said Harry. “Why?”

“I’ve heard Dad talking about him,” said George. “He was a big supporter of You-Know-Who.”

 _You-Know-Who_ , Al thought. _AKA, the guy that almost killed my big brother last year…I sure hope he’s gone for good, I don’t want to deal with that kind of an adventure my first year at Hogwarts_.

“And when You-Know-Who disappeared,” said Fred, craning around to look at Harry, “Lucius Malfoy came back saying he’d never meant any of it. Load of dung—Dad reckons he was right in You-Know-who’s inner circle.”

“I don’t know whether the Malfoys own a house-elf…” said Harry.

“Well, whoever owns him will be an old wizarding family, and they’ll be rich,” said Fred.

Harry was silent. Judging by the fact that Draco Malfoy usually had the best of everything, his family was rolling in wizard gold; he could just see Malfoy strutting around a large manor house.

“I’m glad we came to get you, anyway,” said Ron. “We were all getting really worried when you didn’t answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol’s fault at first—“

“Who’s Errol?”

“Our owl. He’s ancient.”

“I think he may be half-blind or something, too,” Al remarked. “He always ran into the window whenever he delivered letters to Ed and I…”

“Yep,” Ron said. “That’s Errol! So you see, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d collapsed on a delivery. So then I tried to borrow Hermes—“

“ _Who?_ ” Harry questioned, confused by all of these new, random names being thrown at him.

“The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made prefect,” said Fred from the front.

“But Percy wouldn’t lend him to me,” said Ron. “Said he needed him.”

“Percy’s been acting very oddly this summer,” said George, frowning. “You’re driving too far west, Fred.”

Fred twiddled the steering wheel as Harry turned to Alphonse.

“Where’s Ed? Is he back at Ron’s house?”

“No,” Al said. “He’s out of town right now, off taking his State Alchemist’s exam for the Amestrian military.”

“Oh, right,” Harry said. “I had forgotten that he was joining the military…that stinks, I missed my chance to see him this summer because of my aunt and uncle!”

“Not exactly,” Alphonse said optimistically. “He’ll be back soon, and I left a note with Granny and Winry to tell him to meet us at Ron’s as soon as he got back to Resembool. He should be home any day now.”

“With his new military uniform, doubtless,” Ron said, guffawing at the thought of Ed in a soldier’s outfit. Al shook his head, also laughing at the thought:

“I doubt brother would wear anything the military tried to put him in; he likes his red coat way too much.”

“Oh, yeah, the one with the Flamel cross on it,” Harry said, remembering the article of clothing. “Yeah, that was how we found out he was an alchemist, wasn’t it, Ron?”

“No, that was just one of the clues on the way to finding that out.”

“Ah…so, does your dad know you’ve got the car?”

“Er, no,” admitted Ron, “he had to work tonight. Hopefully we’ll be able to get it back in the garage without Mum noticing we flew it…”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Lower and lower went the flying car. The edge of a brilliant red sun was now gleaming through the trees. Out of all of the countless sunrises young Alphonse had witnessed ever since becoming trapped in his armor, the one he looked upon from up in the air that day was by far the most amazing one so far.

“Touchdown!” said Fred as, with a slight bump, they hit the ground. They had landed next to a tumbledown garage in a small yard, and Harry and Al looked out for the first time at Ron’s house.

It looked as though it has once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had been added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it were held up by magic—which, Alphonse reminded himself, it probably was. As he looked upon a lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance that read _The Burrow_ , he felt a bubbling of excitement fill him as he became more and more eager to be introduced further into the world of magic.

“It’s not much,” said Ron.

“Are you kidding?” said Al in awe. “It’s amazing!”

“It’s _wonderful_ ,” said Harry in happy agreement, who was still thinking of Privet Drive.

Ron’s ears turned red in embarrassment at their praise as they got out of the cramped car.

“Now, we’ll go upstairs really quietly,” said Fred, “and wait for Mum to call us for breakfast. Then, Ron, you come bounding downstairs going, ‘Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ and she’ll be all pleased to see Harry and Alphonse and no one need ever know we flew the car.”

“Right,” said Ron. “Come on, Harry, Al; I sleep at the—at the t-top—“

Ron had gone a nasty greenish color, his eyes fixed on the house. The other four wheeled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard, scattering chickens, and for a short, plump, kind-faced woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a saber-toothed tiger.

“Where.have.you. _been_??” she shrieked, her fierce words punctuated by each of her approaching footsteps. Finally coming to a halt, her hands on her hips, she stared from one guilty face to the next. And then she realized Harry and Alphonse were there.

“Harry, dear; Alphonse! How lovely to see you two.”

“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Weasley,” Al said in a feeble voice, attempting to hide behind Harry with some difficulty due to his towering height. The red-haired women returned to her furious persona immediately as she confronted her sons once more.

“ _So,_ ” she said in a deadly whisper, which was somehow even more terrifying than her screeching had been. “Have you any idea how worried I’ve been?”

“Sorry, Mum,” Ron tried to reason with her. “But, see, we had to—“

All three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons were taller than she was, but they cowered as her rage broke over them once more.

“ _Beds empty! No note! Car gone—could have crashed—out of my mind with worry—did you care?—you could have died, you could have been seen!!_”

She paused and cleared her throat:

“’Course, I don’t blame _you_ , Harry, Alphonse.”

Harry and Al gulped in unison at the terrifying Jekyll and Hyde display before them.

“They were starving him, Mum,” Ron tried again. “They put bars on his window—“

“Well, you’d best hope I don’t put bars on _your_ window, Ronald Weasley! You wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy—“

“Perfect Percy,” muttered Fred.

“YOU COULD DO WITH TAKING A LEAF OUT OF PERCY’S BOOK!” yelled Mrs. Weasley, prodding a finger in Fred’s chest.

It seemed like it could go on for hours. Mrs. Weasley had shouted herself hoarse before she turned back to Harry and Alphonse, who had both backed away significantly and were cowering behind the crowd of reprimanded Weasleys.

“Come now, you two,” she said, her voice back to its sweet, normal tone, a smile on her face. “Time for a spot of breakfast.”

She turned and walked back into the house and Harry and Al, after a nervous glance at Ron, who nodded, encouragingly, followed her.

The kitchen was rather small and cramped, so Alphonse let the others in before him and decided upon standing back in the doorway, so as to not take up necessary space.

He had never been in a wizard house before; everything he saw was something new.

The clock on the wall opposite to him had multiple hands on it, bearing the faces of each red-headed Weasley family member on it. Surrounding the faces were words like ‘home’ and ‘work,’ ‘school’ and (to Al’s surprise) ‘lost.’ He watched as the three hands with Ron, Fred and George’s faces on them moved over to the word ‘home.’

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, cooking breakfast a little haphazardly, throwing dirty looks at her sons as she threw sausages into the frying pan.

“I’m so glad you could finally visit, Alphonse, dear,” she said over the sizzling of cooking meat. “Ron’s been talking about having you and your brother over ever since school let out. Still off taking that big military test, is he?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Al said from the doorway. “He should be home soon, though.”

“Well, he’s more than welcome to come over as soon as he’s back.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Well, what are you doing huddled over in the corner there? Come and sit, dearie!”

“Oh, t-that’s alright,” he stuttered, “I’m kind of big and bulky, I don’t want to take up space—“

“Nonsense, Alphonse,” she said, pointing her spatula at a seat across from Harry’s and next to Fred’s, and Alphonse, seeing that he would not take no for an answer, resolved to sitting down obediently. Though he was worried about the chair buckling beneath the weight of his metal armor, it seemed decently stable beneath him. All was well until Fred passed a plate of sausages to him.

“Oh, no thank you,” Al said. Fred raised an eyebrow:

“Aren’t you hungry?”

Ron looked up at the scene and kicked his brother underneath the table.

“OW!” the twin yelped. “What was that for?”

Ron offered no explanation and instead glanced over at Al, who shook his head. No need to act as if it was all a big secret.

“It’s not that,” he explained to Fred. “I just, uhm, well…I can’t eat, actually.”

George and Mrs. Weasley looked over at him curiously.

“At all?” asked George, to which Al shook his head once more.

They need not have asked why, of course, for new travelled fast at Hogwarts. The story of the Elric brothers was well-known in the Weasley household. They just didn’t know the details about Alphonse’s soul’s imprisonment.

“Oh, you poor _dear!_ ” Mrs. Weasley couldn’t help but gush, coming up behind Alphonse and embracing him.

“D-don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley,” Alphonse stammered. “I’m fine!” He did not complain about the hug, however, for even though he couldn’t feel her embrace, it was that kind of motherly love that Al missed dearly. After all, the absence of that was what drove him into the armor, was it not?

At that moment there was a diversion in the form of a small, red-headed figure in a long nightdress, who appeared in the kitchen, gave a small squeal at the sight of Harry, and ran out again.

“…What did I do?” the confused black-haired boy asked.

“That was your sister, wasn’t it?” Alphonse inquired

Ron laughed:

“Yeah, that’s Ginny,” he explained, and in an undertone to Harry:

“She’s been talking about you all summer.”

“Yeah, she’ll be wanting your autograph, Harry,” Fred said with a grin, but he caught his mother’s eye and bent his face over his plate without another word.

The door opened:

“Morning, Weasleys!” a tall man with hair as strikingly red as his family’s said as he boomed into the kitchen.

“Morning, Dad,” Ron, Fred and George greeted him in return.

“What a night,” he said as he huffed into a chair at the head of the table, next to Harry and Alphonse. “Nine raids—nine!”

“Raids?” Harry questioned Ron in a whisper.

“Yeah,” Ron said with a mouthful of eggs; Al immediately thought of his brother at such a display of gluttony.

“Dad works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry. He loves Muggles, thinks they’re fascinating.”

“Ah.”

“Well now,” he said, looking at Alphonse and extracting a hand. “Alphonse Elric, I presume?”

“Yes sir,” he said as he shook the wizard’s hand. _Whoa…I just shook hands with a wizard._

“Arthur Weasley pleased to formally meet you. About time you came over, too! Where’s your brother?”

“He’ll be over in a few days, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley called. “Remember, he’s trying to get into the Amestrian military?”

“Ah, that’s right,” Arthur said, nodding in remembrance as he scooped sausages onto his plate. He looked over to the right of him:

“Hello! Who are you?”

Harry quickly swallowed the bit of breakfast he had in his mouth.

“Oh, sorry, sir. I’m Harry, sir, Harry Potter.”

“Good Lord; are you really?”

Harry nodded, offering the impressed man a friendly smile. Alphonse observed the scene before him curiously; Edward had told him all about how Harry was some sort of huge hero in the Wizarding World since he unintentionally beat Voldemort when he was a baby. Al figured that this would be merely the first of many displays of fame he would see while in the presence of the young lightning-scarred wizard.

“When did he get here?” Arthur Weasley inquired of his wife.

Big mistake.

“Oh, well, let’s see… _your sons flew that enchanted car of yours to Harry’s house and back last night!_ ” shouted Mrs. Weasley (Harry and Al were highly surprised to hear that she still had enough of a voice left in her to muster up such a yell). “What have you got to say about that, eh?”

“Did you really?” said Mr. Weasley eagerly. “How did it go? I—I mean,” he faltered as sparks flew from Mrs. Weasley’s eyes, “that—that was very wrong, indeed, boys—very wrong…”

Just then, there was a loud SLAM! that came from the kitchen window. Harry and Al looked up in surprise, but none of the Weasleys seemed phased by the sound. Sure enough, when they looked to see the source of the commotion, it was Errol.

“Oh, here’s the post,” said Mrs. Weasley, peeling Errol off of the window and prying the letters in his talons from his grasp. “Here, Harry, dear, Dumbledore’s sent us your Hogwarts letter.”

“Just barely?” Ron said in surprise. “We got our ages ago.”

“Yeah, same here,” said Alphonse.

 “There wasn’t exactly any way for me to get ahold of any letters from the Dursleys,” Harry said, frowning at the thought of Dobby stealing all of his post.

There was a second SMACK! at the window, but this time, everyone was startled by it.

“Nova!” Alphonse yelped, jumping out of his seat to fetch his owl. The little barn owl sat up on her own, but her eyes were clouded with pain, one of her wings bent slightly at an awkward angle. _Oh no, she’s hurt!_ He thought tragically, gently carrying her into the house.

“Here, let me see her, dearie,” Mrs. Weasley said, gingerly looking over the miserable owl. “Oh, now, it’s just a bent-up wing is all. Can’t be broken or else she wouldn’t have been able to make it here at all.”

“So she’ll be ok?” Alphonse asked worriedly. “How did this happen?”

“She probably just ran into something mid-flight,” Mrs. Weasley explained. “That even happens to younger owls, I’m afraid. I’ll just wrap this wing up for her and we’ll keep an eye on her, alright?”

Alphonse nodded, watching as Nova offered up the envelope in her grasp to her temporary caretaker.

“Here, Alphonse, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said, handing him a small envelope. “Doesn’t say who it’s from, it’s not from Hogwarts, though…”

“Oh, thanks,” Alphonse said, curiously looking at the handwriting on the envelope. “I don’t recognize it as brother’s.”

Upon opening it, however, he immediately wished he hadn’t.

 

_Do not return to Hogwarts. Only horror and misfortune awaits you through the castle’s doors._

That was it. Just those fifteen, ominous words. No signature whatsoever.

“Whose it from?”

“It doesn’t say,” Al said, unable to keep the tone of worry from his voice. He passed the letter on to Harry and Ron, who reacted similarly.

“That sounds like what Dobby told me! Now someone’s trying to keep Al from going to Hogwarts, too.”

“Don’t pay any attention to it, Al,” Ron said, throwing the letter down onto the table. “Probably Malfoy trying to pull one on you, seeing as he can’t pull one on Edward anymore since he’s not going to Hogwarts this year.”

Alphonse was still relatively uneasy about the letter and about the state delivering it left Nova in. Something was definitely not right here.

“Come on,” Ron said once they had all finished breakfast. “I’ll show you two my bedroom; that’ll get your mind off of Nova, Al.”

They slipped out of the kitchen and down a narrow passageway to an uneven staircase, which wounds its way, zigzagging up through the house. On the third landing, a door stood ajar. Harry just caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him before it closed with a snap.

“Ginny,” said Ron. “You don’t know how weird it is for her to be this shy. She never shuts up normally.”

“She’s going to be a first year, too, right?” Al asked, to which Ron nodded.

“Yeah, about time, too. She’s been wanting to go to Hogwarts for the longest time…here we go…”

They had reached a door with a plaque on it, saying _Ronald’s Room_. Harry was the first one to step in, his head almost touching the sloping ceiling, and blinked in shock.

“…… _Ed_??”

“ _What?!_ ” Ron and Al said in unison, Al accidentally bonking his helmet off on the low ceiling.

Edward grinned from his perch on Ron’s bed.

“Nice room you’ve got here, Ron!”

 

~~*e.s.*~~


	4. A Fullmetal Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Edward becomes Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist...
> 
> And then they go shopping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Three:  A Fullmetal Introduction~

 

 

“…You mean he was here the whole time and you didn’t tell us, Mum?” said Ron, gaping at his mischievous mother.

Everybody was back in the living room, Ed, Harry, Al and Ron sitting on the sofas, Mr. Weasley, Fred and George watching the scene taking place from the doorway. Mrs. Weasley shrugged:

“I was far too busy yelling at you. Plus, Edward wanted so badly to surprise you all.”

Ed grinned in response to the truthful statement:

“You three should’ve seen the looks on your faces!”

“Well yeah!” Ron said indigently. “How would you feel if I randomly appeared in _your_ bedroom?”

At this statement the twins and Ed busted up.

“Pretty good, huh?” Ed said, obviously proud of his sneakiness.

“So are you staying for the rest of the summer—or, uhm, at least until you, I don’t know, ship out?” Harry inquired. Edward looked over at Mrs. Weasley, who smiled and nodded.

“We would be more than happy to have you for as long as you can, Edward, dearie.”

“Ok then, thanks!”

“Anytime.”

“ _So_?” Al inquired suddenly. “Did you get state certified? Did you pass the exam??”

Edward huffed, leaning back on the couch.

“Yeah, of course I did,” he replied, grinning at Al as he extracted a silver pocket watch from his pocket. Upon further inspection from Harry and the Weasleys, they could see that it bore a seal with a lion on it upon its lid.

“Is that the Amestrian crest?” Arthur Weasley inquired. Ed nodded:

“Once a State alchemist passes their state qualification exam, they receive one of these. The military uses it as an identification thing; anybody carrying one of these is a known State alchemist.”

“Can I see it?” Ron asked, to which Ed tossed the watch over.

“So what exactly does that mean?” a voice from the stairs behind them spoke. Fred and George turned around a grinned from ear to ear.

“Percy!” Fred exclaimed. “Decided to join us at last, did you?”

“After all, one can only re-read OWL scores so many times, can’t they?” George said, nudging Fred in the side.

“Oh, shut it, you two,” Percy said pompously. “I only came down to see what all of the ruckus was about. Nice to see you Edward, Harry, Alphonse.”

“Hi,” Harry said, and Al waved. Ed turned and looked at Percy.

“Morning,” he greeted the tall redhead politely. Percy yawned in reply.

“So what is all of this State Alchemist business?” he inquired of the blonde. “Does that mean you’re not returning to Hogwarts?”

Ed looked at Ron, eyebrows raised.

“You didn’t tell him?”

Ron shrugged.

“He seemed like he wouldn’t care less…”

“Why wouldn’t I care? After all, I _was_ his prefect last year.”

“Oh, you were a prefect, were you?” Fred said, feigning surprise.

“My goodness, we had no idea!” George reiterated. Percy rolled his eyes in annoyance and, much to his mother’s obvious dismay, stomped right back up the stairs to his bedroom.

“It’s been like this all summer…” Mrs. Weasley said concernedly.

“I’m sorry,” Edward said, frowning. “What’s making him mad?”

“You mean other than their pestering?” she asked, nodding at the twins, who were now seeing who could balance butter knives on their nose the longest. “I haven’t the faintest idea…”

“But he had a good point,” George piped up suddenly. “What _does_ that mean, you being a State Alchemist and all? Are you like a General now or something?”

“Yeah,” Fred said, sneezing suddenly, causing his butter knife to clatter to the hardwood floor. “Are they going to ship you out in the next few weeks?”

Edward thought about this for a moment before answering.

“…As of right now Amestris isn’t involved in any wars, so no, I don’t think I’ll be shipped out anywhere anytime soon. I’ll be dealing with domestic affairs and issues, which means mostly being Colonel Mustang’s lap dog, unfortunately. As for ranking, a State Alchemist holds the rank equivalent to one of a Major, I think…”

“Uh oh…” Ron and Harry muttered.

Ed looked up from his pocket watch and blanched at the sight of the twin’s grinning faces. Needless to say, he immediately regretted informing the pranksters of his rank.

“Major Elric, eh?” Fred said, nudging George in the side. “Well then, this changes things!”

“Yes, yes it does,” George said, clicking his heels together. “We’ll have to be more respectful now. After all, he _is_ quite a bit of a higher rank than us, right Fred?”

“Aye,” Fred said, and the both of them saluted Ed from the doorway. “At your service, Major Edward Elric, sir!”

Edward face palmed.

“Aw; I think we’ve embarrassed the poor soldier…”

“Hey, I just thought of something,” Alphonse piped up, looking at Edward, who cocked his head curiously at his little brother.

“What is it?”

“Did they give you a title, brother?”

“A title?” Harry asked, also cocking his head. Alphonse nodded:

“Yeah, like they call Colonel Mustang the Flame Alchemist. What alchemist are you?”

Edward smirked.

“Oh yeah,” he said, digging in his coat pocket and extracting an important-looking piece of paper. “How could I forget?”

He passed the paper on to Alphonse, and spoke as Harry, Ron and the twins all crowded around the suit of armor.

“I’m the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

If he could have Alphonse would have grinned; _how ironic; F_ _ührer Bradley must have a dark sense of humor._

“The Fullmetal Alchemist??” the twins said in ecstatic unison.

 _Oh great_ , Edward thought. _Now I’ve given them yet another title to tease me with…_

“Sounds like a superhero’s name,” Harry said, also grinning at Edward. “It suits you, Ed!”

“The Fullmetal Alchemist…” Ron said, trying the title out on his own tongue. “I like it.”

Edward smiled at his friend’s reactions; they made the entire situation of him having to join the military in the first place a lot more bearable.

“So, Edward,” Mr. Weasley said, sitting across from him in his chair. “What all did you have to do in order to become a State Alchemist?”

And thus the rest of the conversation was wrought with explanations and the twin’s taking turns stealing Ed’s pocket watch.

Life at the Burrow was extremely different from life in Resembool. The Weasley’s home burst with the strange and unexpected; Harry got a shock the first time he looked in the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece and it shouted, “ _Tuck in your shirt, scruffy!_ ” but then all of the surprise turned to hilarity when Ed walked past not a moment later and got into an argument with it over his loose-fitting black tank. The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and George’s bedroom were considered perfectly normal. However, the one time there was a large, floor rumbling burst of noise from the twin’s room, it turned out to be not their fault at all. Ron and Harry found this out when Al came tumbling down the stairs as fast as his metallic body would allow him too.

“What’s going on?” Ron asked.

“Fred…” Al looked over his shoulder worriedly. “He called Ed a dwarf.”

Edward heard from Hogwarts one sunny morning about a week after he had unexpectedly arrived the same day Harry did at the Burrow. He and Harry went down to breakfast to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Alphonse and Ginny already sitting at the kitchen table. The moment she saw Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a loud clatter. Ginny seemed very prone to knocking things over whenever Harry entered a room. She dived under the table to retrieve the bowl but stopped when Ed clapped his hands and slammed them onto the floor, swiftly transmuting a hardwood hand to promptly lift the fallen bowl back onto the table for the red-faced girl. She looked up and offered Ed a small smile of thanks as Harry sat down and took the toast Mrs. Weasley offered him, pretending he hadn’t noticed a thing.

“I don’t think it’s a Hogwarts letter, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, passing Ed his yellowish parchment envelope. “It doesn’t have the seal on the back…”

Edward frowned, wondering what the headmaster had to say to his former student:

 

_Dear Edward,_

_I am terribly sorry to learn of your dropping out of Hogwarts and I wish there was any way possible that I could convince you otherwise. After all, if I was in your position, I most likely would not have made the same choice. However, far be it for me to make you stay if you feel that Hogwarts will not help you achieve what you wish to accomplish for you and your brother, even though I promise you there was not only a solution here at the castle, but also a home, a refuge._

_I am not writing to demand you to stay in school, but merely to say this; if you do not find what you are looking for in the Amestrian military, please consider returning to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I know it is rather unorthodox for me to even suggest such a thing, and I know that our deputy headmistress—your previous Head of House—would most definitely frown upon such a decision on my part, but I just see so much potential in you that should not be wasted. Even if you curse my name for urging you to reconsider, even if you throw this letter away immediately after reading its contents, know that you will forever have an ally in me. I do hope you will keep in touch even if you sever all attachments to your school._

_Above all else, Edward Elric, I mean most to wish you luck. After all, we all can use a bit of that every once and a while._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

“…Well?” Alphonse inquired. “What did it say?”

Edward huffed.

“It’s from Dumbledore…he was just writing to wish me luck.”

“Oh,” Al said, deciding against asking to see it based on the look on his big brother’s face as he stuffed the letter back in its envelope and stowed it in his coat.

Just then, Percy walked in, already dressed, his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his sweater vest.

“Morning, all,” he said briskly. “Lovely day.”

He sat down in the only remaining chair but leapt up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster—at least, that was what Harry thought it was, until he saw that it was breathing.

“Errol!” said Ron, taking the limp out from Percy and extracting a letter from under its wing. “ _Finally_ —he’s got Hermione’s answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursley’s, Harry, and that we were having you and Alphonse over, Ed.”

He carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again so Ron lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, “Pathetic. I can’t wait until Nova’s back to her normal self so we don’t have to deal with this one.”

“You and me both,” Al said, obviously still worried about his and his brother’s owl.

Ron ripped open Hermione’s letter and read it out loud:

“’ _Dear Ron and Al, and Harry and Ed if you’re there,_

_“’I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn’t do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry and Alphonse in trouble, too. I’ve been really worried and if Harry if all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off._

_“’I’m very busy with schoolwork, of course’_ —How _can_ she be?” said Ron in horror. “We’re on vacation!— _“and we’re going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don’t we all meet in Diagon Alley?_

_“’Let me know what’s happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.’”_

“Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too,” said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. “What’re you all up to today?”

Harry, Ron, Ed, Al, Fred and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasley’s owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn’t fly too high. They couldn’t use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village; instead they threw apples for one another to catch. They took turns riding Harry’s Nimbus Two Thousand, which was easily the best broom; Ron’s old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies.

Edward and Alphonse were content with watching Harry and the Weasley’s go at it up in the air, until—

“Hey, Ed, Al!” George called down to the brothers. “I know there’s two more brooms in the shed, you two are welcome to join us!”

“Thanks!” Alphonse said. “But I’m sure I’m over the weight limit.”

“Yeah, me too,” Ed said. Harry looked back at him.

“No you’re not,” he said to the blonde. “Remember last year in flying lessons? You got up just fine.”

“Yeah, I hated that class…” Ed muttered. Fred grinned.

“That’s funny that you don’t like flying,” he said loudly, “seeing as that would be a good way to increase your height, even if just for a moment.”

He let go of his broom handle in order to shrug sarcastically.

“But I can understand if you enjoy being a midget.”

“Or an elf,” George piped up, snickering as Ed visibly turned red in fury, leapt up from his spot on the grass next to Alphonse and sprinted towards the broom shed.

A bit later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he was busy. Edward had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

“Wish I knew what he was up to,” said Fred, frowning. “He’s not himself. His exam results came the day before you lot did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all.”

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels,” George explained, seeing Harry, Ed and Al’s puzzled looks. “Bill got twelve, too. If we’re not careful, we’ll have another Head Boy in the family. I don’t think I could stand the shame.”

“Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year,” said George suddenly. “Five sets of Lockhart books! And Ginny needs new robes and a wand and everything….”

Harry said nothing. He felt a bit awkward. Stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London was a small fortune that his parents had left him.

Just as he was thinking that, however, Edward piped up and said the words Harry wished he had the guts to say:

“Well, if there’s anything Al and I can do to help money-wise, let us know.”

Fred and George gave him an amused look.

“We couldn’t ask that of you—“Fred began, but Ed and Al both waved him off.

“Trust me,” Ed began, and then looked at his brother. “We can afford it.”

Ron smiled in an effort to hide the fact that his ears were turning bright red.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday to go shopping. Alphonse was particularly jumpy, for it would not only be the day he got to buy all of his supplies for his first year at Hogwarts, but it would also be the day he found out for sure whether or not he would be able to perform magic at all while stuck in his metal body, for if Ollivander would not be able to test him for a wand that day, most likely Al would not be able to use one either.

After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot off the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside.

“We’re running low, Arthur,” she sighed. “We’ll have to buy some more today…Ah well, guests first! After you, Harry dear!”

And she offered him the flowerpot; Ed and Al glanced over as Harry looked around at them all watching him.

“…You’ve never travelled by this powder stuff before, have you?” Ed said, to which Harry shook his head.

“Never?” said Mr. Weasley. “But how did you get to Diagon Alley to buy your school things last year?”

“I went on the Underground—“

“Really?” said the elder ginger eagerly. “Were there _escapators_? How exactly—“

“Not _now_ , Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley.

“Maybe we should go first…?” Alphonse offered. “You know, so we can show him how to do it?”

“It’s not like it’s _hard_ ,” Edward muttered, shooting Harry a sideways grin. “I’ll go first…”

And with that last statement, Edward turned to Mrs. Weasley, who offered him the flowerpot. He took a small handful of the magical powder into his ungloved automail fist, then stepped into the fireplace. He cleared his throat and spoke:

“…Diagon Alley!”

As soon as he threw the powder down, with a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than Edward’s antenna and he vanished within the flames. Alphonse laughed as he looked at Harry’s shell-shocked expression.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, don’t worry.”

Harry was still frozen as Alphonse ducked his head beneath the mantle with a gloveful of powder and followed his big brother’s lead, leaving the Weasley living room behind in the ashes…

“Al? You alright?”

Alphonse rose from the fireplace floor and nodded.

“Yeah…which store are we in?”

“Looks like we didn’t appear in a store, actually,” Ed said, as Alphonse looked around. “They had a fireplace right out here in the alleyway itself.”

“They probably have a lot of people using Floo Powder to get here, after all,” Alphonse pointed out, to which the sound of green fire whooshing by alerted them back to the fireplace. Ron walked towards them, brushing a bit of ash off of his pants.

“…No Harry?”

Ed and Al shook their heads, to which Ron silently cursed.

“He stuttered when he spoke; I hope he didn’t get too off-target!”

Within a minute or so the rest of the Weasley family had met up with them, also concerned about the whereabouts of Harry Potter.

“He’ll be fine, Molly, don’t fuss,” Mr. Weasley said in an effort to calm his worked-up wife.

“But what if he’s completely and utterly lost, Arthur? Oh, I do hope he’s only gone one grate too far; this is _terrible_ …”

Alphonse looked over at Ron.

“Grates?”

“Yeah, it’s weird, the way the Floo Network works,” Ron said, shrugging. “Dad knows all about it if you really want to know, but basically he was saying he hopes Harry isn’t somewhere in Bulgaria.”

“How the hell are we going to be able to find him, then??” Ed said, to which Ron shrugged.

“Like my mum said, let’s just hope he isn’t far…”

To their great fortune, Harry did not get too off-target; right as they were about to reach the end of the alleyway, where Gringotts stood erect and pearl-white, they stumbled upon Hermione Granger, who had stumbled upon Hagrid and, much to the Weasley’s relief—

“Harry,” Mr. Weasley panted. “Thank goodness you’re ok…” He mopped his glistening bald patch. “Molly’s frantic—she’s coming now—“

“Where did you come out?” Ron asked.

“Knockturn Alley,” said Hagrid grimly.

“ _Excellent!_ ” said Fred and George together.

“We’ve never been allowed in,” said Ron enviously.

Ed and Al looked up at the gamekeeper.

“Nice to see you, Hagrid,” Ed said, grinning.

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Alphonse agreed. Hagrid offered the younger of the two a smile.

“Well, if it isn’t Alphonse Elric! Yer gonna be a firs’ year this year, am I right?”

“Yep,” Al said. “I can’t wait, either.”

“Well, Hogwarts will be happy tah have yeh…As fer _you_ …”

Suddenly, Hagrid pulled at Edward’s shirt and tugged him away from the crowd of Weasleys and Grangers (“But you’re _Muggles!_ ” Mr. Weasley suddenly squealed at the sight of Hermione’s parents…).

“Whoa, what’s—?” Ed asked, but was quickly silenced by Hagrid’s harsh whisper.

“What’s all this I’ve been hearing from Professor Dumbledore? Yer not returning this year??”

“Oh damn, I forgot to tell you, I’m so—“

“What gives, Edward?? Yeh were bloody amazing last year! Yer one of the most talented in that entire school, what with all yer alchemy stuff and what-not. Why, if I ever did get another opportunity to go to Hogwarts, I would have never given it up! Why on earth would you drop out?”

“You know why, Hagrid.”

“Well, o’ course I bloody well don’! Why else would I be _askin’_ —?”

Edward turned away from the gamekeeper suddenly, facing back towards where his brother stood, watching out of the corner of his golden eye as the half-giant followed his gaze. His expression softened slightly upon seeing Alphonse.

“…Don’t tell me they didn’t tell you about him…about me. About what we did wrong.”

Hagrid looked down at the elder Elric with a pained expression on his face.

“But that’s no’—“

“It’s reason enough for me, Hagrid,” Ed said firmly, re-facing Hagrid. “I made everything wrong, and now I will do anything to make it all right again…Professor Dumbledore understands. I just hope you will in time, too, since you’re my friend and all…”

Hagrid looked away.

“Yeh had to bring out the friend card, didn’t yeh now. You know how to get tah me, Elric…”

Ed smiled, then hugged Hagrid tight.

“I’ll keep in touch, no matter what. I promise.”

“Yeh better!”

“Hah! As for you…take care of Al for me, since I won’t be around to do so myself. Ok?”

Hagrid nodded, sniffling slightly.

“O’ course…now, off wit’ ya. I’ve lots of shopping left tah do.”

Ed nodded, shooting the half-giant a wide grin before running back to his brother’s side.

“What was that about?” the younger Elric inquired once his brother had returned. Ed shook his head.

“Dumbledore didn’t tell him everything…and he deserved to know.”          

“Hey,” Ron said, walking up to the brothers, Harry at his side. “Ready to go to Gringotts?’

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ed said, waving at Hagrid as he scurried away from the group and into the crowded street.

“Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?” Harry asked Ron, Hermione, Ed and Al as they climbed the Gringotts steps. “Malfoy and his father.”

“Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?” said Mr. Weasley sharply behind them.

“No, he was selling—“

“So he’s worried,” said Mr. Weasley with grim satisfaction. “Oh, I’d love to get Lucius Malfoy for something….”

“You be careful, Arthur,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply as they were bowed into the bank by a goblin at the door. “That family’s trouble. Don’t go biting off more than you can chew—“

“So you don’t think I’m a match for Lucius Malfoy?” said Mr. Weasley indignantly. Edward rolled his eyes:

“I’m sure you are; if he’s anything like his prick of a son, he’s nothing but a big weakling.”

Before either of the Weasley parents could comment upon Ed’s statement, Mr. Weasley was distracted once again by Hermione’s parents, who were about to change out their ten-pound notes to Wizard currency.

“Meet you back here,” Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys, the Elric brothers and harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

“First to the Weasley vault, then Potter, and last Hohenheim?”

Mrs. Weasley nearly nodded, but then paused at the last name, glancing over at Edward in confusion.

“Hohenheim?”

“Yeah,” Ed said with some venom lacing his voice.

“It’s our dad’s vault,” Alphonse explained. “His name wasn’t Elric, we have our mom’s name.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Weasley said softly. She knew very little of the Elric family’s history, but she hesitated to ask, recalling that Ron had briefed her, saying that that was a rather sensitive subject for the brothers.

The goblin assisting them, after shooting the Elric brothers one more look on inquiry, pressed the button within the too-small cart before them not once, but twice, tripling the size of the cart in order to accommodate for all of them.

Harry enjoyed the breakneck journey down to the Weasley’s vault, but felt dreadful, far worse than he had in Knockturn Alley, when it was opened. There was a very small pile of silver Sickled inside, and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt right into the corners before sweeping the whole lot into her bag. On the way to Harry’s vault, Alphonse got an idea and whispered it in his brother’s ear, which then passed the plan onto Harry as he tried to block the contents of his parent’s vault from the Weasleys view as he hastily shoved handfuls of coins into his leather bag.

“Ok,” Ed said, looking over his shoulder as he walked up to Harry. “Which of the twins do you think is more mischievous?”

Harry raised an eyebrow:

“You’re joking right?”

Ed grinned.

“Nope; Al came up with a plan to give the Weasleys some money without embarrassing them.”

“How?” Harry asked, suddenly eager to help the Elric brothers out with their latest scheme.

“Ok, listen up…”

A minute or so later they were all back in the cart, Ed and Al whispering frantically to Fred as they dove even deeper down into the depths of Gringotts, towards Van Hohenheim’s vault.

Alphonse did the honors of taking the little golden key into his giant, leathered hands and opening up the vaults big iron door. There was a collective gasp throughout the Weasleys as the contents of the room were revealed.

“Whoa…”

Harry thought _his_ vault was packed; his jaw nearly disconnected with his skull due to the shock he felt at the sight of the Elric brother’s two-leveled Gringotts vault.

“Yep,” Ed said, puffing a lock of hair out of his eyes as he handed Al a bag to put his Wizarding cash in “Apparently our dad is loaded.”

“No kidding,” Ron said, gaping. “This is the most money I have…I’ve never…look at all those Galleons!”

At that comment everybody cracked up, making Ron’s ears turn beet red.

“You guys haven’t seen anything yet,” Alphonse piped up, moving to go up to the second level. “Come on!”

“Oh yeah, all his maps and stuff,” Ed said, grinning at Ron. “You’ve got to see this.”

As he watched everyone else climb the stairs, Edward idly slipped his hand into the pocket of his coat, fingering the chain of a silver locket he had almost forgotten about…

“Ok, let’s do this!” Fred suddenly piped up from behind him. Ed spun around, hastily shushing the Weasley and grabbing a second bag.

“Where’s your mom?” Ed double checked, to which Fred pointed up the stairs. Ed listened, and sure enough, he could hear Mrs. Weasley’s voice intertwined with the others just beyond the stairs.

“Alright,” he said, diving down and dumping as many coins as he could fit into the bag in his hands, making sure to dole out more than enough Wizarding money for the entire Weasley family to get their school supplies and more. “Make sure she doesn’t notice you, ok? If she did—“

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred waved him off, grinning widely as he yanked the heavy bag out of Edward’s grasp. “You forget you’re dealing with a professional here.”

Sure enough, as soon as the two of them joined the others on the second level, Fred disappeared beyond the vast collection of things, never to be seen again until, five minutes later, he returned to Edward and Alphonse’s side with a different bag that he left with, the bag full of the couple of Sickles and single Galleon from the Weasley vault.

“That was amazing!” Alphonse whispered in awe, to which Fred shrugged.

“Piece of pudding.”

“You mean cake?” Ed inquired.

“Nope.”

“Alright everybody, let’s go back out to get our things now,” Mrs. Weasley called out to everyone, making her way down the stairs, urging the rest of them to follow. Alphonse looked back at Ed:

“You coming?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Just give me a sec…”

Alphonse nodded and followed the Weasleys down and out. Harry on the other hand was curious as to why Ed suddenly craved solitude and stood by the top of the stairs, silently watching the blonde as he pulled an oval-shaped locket out of his pocket, turning it over in his flesh hand twice before gently setting it down upon an antique-looking table.

“It was my mom’s,” Ed said, to which Harry jumped slightly, not aware that Ed knew he was there. The Elric looked back at the scarred boy and smiled sadly. “Well, _our_ mom, mine and Al’s.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly, following Ed as he briskly sauntered down the stairs. The alchemist sighed.

“Yeah. So am I.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated.

“We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks,” said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. “And not one step down Knockturn Alley!” she shouted at the twins’ retreating backs. Ed, Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked up at Alphonse.

“What…?” Al asked, confused at the stares.

“Well, seeing as you are going to be a first year this year…” Hermione began, but Ed finished:

“You have to get everything, basically.”

“Oh, right…”

“So,” Harry asked, grinning at the younger Elric. “Where do _you_ want to go first, Al?”

Moments later the five wizards were standing before Ollivander’s wand shop. Edward was actually rather surprised that Alphonse wanted so bad to get his wand, since they were not even sure whether or not he could use one at all. Then again, it was not like the brave young boy to ignore a question and to not seek out the truth, no matter how likely it was that the answer would be a heartbreaking, negative one. A little bell tinkled as they stepped into the little shop, Alphonse ducking his head due to the lowness of the doorframe. If he could have been, he just knew that he would have been shaking like a leaf at that very moment, wanting nothing more than to hurry up and try out a wand, to make sure he really was magical.

Ollivander was seated at his desk, a pair of silver half-moon glasses upon his face as he wrote idly upon a long piece of parchment by the light of a single candlestick. Upon hearing the bell toll, he looked up, his glasses tipping slightly, his eyes shining bright as an owl’s.

“…Alphonse Elric. You have returned.”

He removed his glasses, stood from his stool, and then walked around to where the small group of students stood, looking curiously up into Alphonse’s helmet. Right at that stone-cold, silent moment Alphonse realized that he knew everything, that he knew that Alphonse no longer had a body. His thoughts were reinforced by the old wizard’s next statement.

“A soul trapped in iron…a heart within the armor. There is much more than meets the eye with the Elric brothers, more than I realized the first day I met you two.”

Edward’s eyes widened slightly.

“H-how did you find out?”

“The news of your accident was not secluded to Hogwarts news, and news travels fast in the Wizarding World.”

“Oh,” Ed said, averting his eyes down to the stone floor. The wandmaker’s demeanor changed upon realizing what his words did to the brothers.

“Let us dwell on this no further,” he said, turning around and summoning his long silver measuring tape from within his desk. “You will need a wand, now, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Alphonse said, a bit more apprehension in his voice than he had intended to have. He held out his right arm as the measuring tape floated around and took quick measurements, only half listening as Ollivander began his usual speech about his wands, his mind to full of worry. _I really hope I can do magic…_

“Mr. Elric?”

Alphonse looked up at Ollivander.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said try this one; oak and Phoenix feather, twelve inches—with a bit of a spring to it…give it a go.”

“Alright,” Alphonse said, lifting the wand out of its cushioned box, waving it around.

Nothing happened.

Out of the corner of his eye Al could see his brother’s face fall slightly, whereas Ron, Hermione and Harry were shooting each other questioning looks. His worst nightmare had come true after all; Alphonse would not be able to attend Hogwarts without being able to use a wand. Ollivander, on the other hand, did not seem fazed at all by such an empty display. On the contrary his expression brightened a bit as he raised his gray eyebrows in excitement.

“…I know just the wand for you, Alphonse Elric.”

“You do?” Al said in surprise. Ollivander nodded once, retreated back to his shelves and promptly pulled another box off without so much as even needing to double check the label. When he opened it before Alphonse, he bore a simply cut wand with a reddish tint to the wood, except for in the handle where an embossed circle was slightly more faded than the rest of the instrument.

“Ash and Phoenix feather, twelve-and-a-half inches, broad yet delicate.”

Alphonse hesitated to take the wand at first but grabbed it immediately after seeing the eager expression on Ollivander’s face. At first nothing happened once again, however, just as the disappointed younger Elric was about to put the wand back in its box, it began to do something. What exactly it was doing nobody could tell…except for Alphonse. Immediately after he realized what was happening he gasped, and then golden sparks began to pour out of the wand’s tip and from its base, pouring into Alphonse’s leathered palm and slowly covering the entirety of his armor with swirled glittery spirals of golden dust and magic. And then they began to fade into the armor, and the wand’s previous golden sheen softened to a mellow glow, and then eventually cooled back to its original color.

Alphonse made a motion that would have seemed like he was shivering, except Edward knew that that was not even possible.

“It…it worked!” he said in a disbelieving voice. “I—I didn’t think I could use a wand, since…you know—I can’t believe it worked!”

Ollivander cocked his head curiously at the young Elric’s words.

“…I see now; you thought that since you had no human body that the wand would not be able to sense the magic within you.”

He spun around.

“You cannot perform wandwork with your automail arm, can you Edward?”

Edward shook his head, clenching and unclenching his ungloved metal fist as he admitted:

“Yeah, it doesn’t work as well with the automail. I couldn’t do anything at all the first two weeks because I was using my right arm.”

“Right…”

Ollivander turned back to Alphonse.

“What you must understand, however, is that you and Edward are very different in this aspect. He simply has automail, whereas your very soul is bound to that entire suit of armor. And despite popular belief, magic comes from your soul more so than your heart...therefore, Mr. Elric, you should not have to worry about not being able to use your wand properly. And I must say that the very wand you currently have within your grasp is the perfect wand for you.”

He took it from Alphonse and looked it over.

“Ah yes…that was to be expected, for after all, you are his brother.”

“What, what happened?” Al asked eagerly. Ollivander showed him the addition Alphonse’s touch made to the wand’s original design; dark, burn-like shading at the top of the handle, topped with tiny scratch-like indentions into the wood.

“It is not a snake, like Edward’s was…however I cannot begin to imagine what exactly it represents.”

His ominous words echoed throughout Alphonse’s mind over and over again, even after he had paid seven Galleons for his wand and left the shop.

“That went a lot faster than when I got my wand there,” Harry said, recalling the large pile of boxes he had gone through before finding his own wand. Edward nodded in agreement, but he was only half-listening, for his own mind was pondering some words of Ollivander’s…

 _..._ _There is much more than meets the eye with the Elric brothers, more than I realized the first day I met you two…_

…It was as if he had known something already the first time they ever stepped into shop. Not only that but the very fact that he knew so much about they’re accident at all really bothered Ed; who else knew that he was not aware of? How far and vast does news like theirs travel in this world of magic?

They all strolled off along the winding, cobbled street, examining the fascinating shop windows. When they passed by Madam Malkin’s robe shop, everybody looked at Alphonse, and then laughed out loud in unison. Alphonse probably would have blushed if he had the ability to do so as they walked right past the shop without so much as peering into its windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the windows of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. Alphonse had a lot of fun picking out different colored quill pens and ink whilst Edward insisted on complaining about the lack of fountain pens in the Wizarding World.

“I mean, _really_ , it’s like they miss the Dark Ages or something,” Ed said, rolling his eyes at a Gothic looking candelabrum whilst Alphonse became highly entertained by a ridiculously fluffy ivory-colored emu-feather quill.

In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and their friend Lee Jordan, who were all three stocking up on Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called _Prefects Who Gained Power._

“’Course, he’s very ambitious, Percy, he’s got it all planned out…He wants to be Minister of Magic…” Ron told Harry, Ed, Al and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it. Ed shrugged:

“Nothing wrong with being ambitious.”

“This is coming from the King of Ambition himself,” Hermione said, smiling knowingly at the elder Elric.

“She’s right, brother,” Al said, laughing as Ed stuck his tongue out at him.

Before they knew it their hour was up, and they all stood before the crowded entrance of Flourish and Blotts. The reason for the surprisingly large jostling crowd was proclaimed by a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART

will be signing copies of his autobiography

_MAGICAL ME_

today 12:30 p.m. to 4:30 p.m.

 

“I’ve heard that name before, haven’t I…?” Ed asked, looking at Al. Hermione gasped in abhorrent disgust:

“He’s practically written the whole booklist!” she squealed, looking back up at the window. “We can actually meet him!”

They all squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy (minus Ed, of course) of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_ and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

“Oh, there you five are, good,” said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. “We’ll be able to see him in a minute…by the way, did I by any chance accidentally take one of your Gringotts bags, Harry, Ed dear? I don’t think I picked up the right bag, this one is…well, a bit more full than mine was.”

Bothe Ed and Harry shook their heads and shrugged innocently, utilizing every bit of their willpower to keep from busting up.

Ed looked over at Alphonse, wordlessly asking _do you really want to wait in this line just to see some guy named Gilderoy?_ At Al’s headshake, he led the way out of the line and headed straight for the Alchemy section, diving right into the cornucopia of alchemical knowledge.

Within seconds Ed was already sitting between two towering bookshelves, head buried deep into a thick parchment book while Alphonse explored deeper into the same section, finding books for pleasure reading throughout the school year. They could hear the noise from below and managed to ignore the vast sea of Lockhart fans for a decent amount of time…that is, until the crowd suddenly burst into thunderous applause. Ed rolled his eyes, forcing the book in his hands back onto its shelf and joining his little brother at the edge of the balcony overlooking the book signing. The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front. They could see Harry’s face burning as Lockhart forced him to pose for a photo with him, remarking that together they were worth the front page of the _Daily Prophet_.

“…Does this kind of stuff happen to him often?” Al inquired of his big brother, who laughed once.

“Yeah, unfortunately it does.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lockhart said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!”

“Ugh,” Ed said, rolling his eyes at the sound of the author’s voice. “I already don’t like this guy…”

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography—which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge—“ The crowd applauded again. “He had _no_ _idea_ ,” Lockhart continued, giving Harry a little shake that made his glasses slip to the end of his nose—Ed couldn’t help but laugh at how red his friend’s face was getting, much to his kind little brother’s disdain—“that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, _Magical Me_. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have the great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

“Ok, I’ve heard enough,” Ed said, turning his back to the overwhelming scene and promptly picking another alchemy book off the shelf.

“Yeah, me too,” Alphonse said, shaking his head in disgust. “I can’t believe _that_ guy is going to be one of my teachers next year!”

“Yeah,” Ed said, frowning slightly. “I’d have to say that Quirrell would have been a better pick than him.”

“Didn’t he have Voldemort at the back of his head, though?” Alphonse said, to which Ed blinked, then shrugged.

“At least he wouldn’t be constantly bragging about himself all the time…”

Alphonse looked away, wondering whether Lockhart really was as stuck-up as he seemed or if he was just playing the part for all the swooning witches downstairs.

“…Al, come look at this.”

“What is it?” Al asked, turning back to face his brother, who had a navy blue-colored book entitled _Alchemy throughout History_ in his hands.

“The pictures on the cover of this book…I never noticed it before, but look,” he said, pointing at the center-most emboss on the cover. Alphonse cocked his head:

“I recognize that from somewhere…hey, wasn’t that on your State Alchemist’s pamphlet??”

“Yeah, because it’s the Amestrian crest!”

“No way! What’s it doing on the cover of that book??”

“I don’t know…” Ed said, “Other than the fact that we use alchemy in the State military there is nothing that connects the history of alchemy with Amestris…unless there’s more to the story than that…”

He tucked the book under his arm.

“You’re going to buy it?” Al inquired.

“Why not? Other than the fact that it may have something I need to know in it, it may also be a good read.”

“True…” Al agreed, beginning to make his way back down the stairs to purchase all of his schoolbooks.

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” said a voice that Ed immediately recognized once he got downstairs. He exhaled in frustration.

“Here comes trouble…”

“ _Famous_ Harry Potter,” said Malfoy. “Can’t even go into a _bookshop_ without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” said Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry; Ed was impressed by the venomous glare she bestowed upon Draco Malfoy.

“Oh look, Potter, you’ve got yourself a _girlfriend_!” drawled the blonde, sneering joyfully. Ginny went scarlet while Ed, seeing that moment as a good time to barge into the conversation fought his way over.

“Looks like someone managed to get uglier over the break,” Ed remarked, smirking just as he did the first day he ever saw Malfoy, who was not impressed by the insult.

“At least _I_ still have two working arms.”

“Trust me,” Ed said, lifting his automail hand and curling it tightly into a fist, relishing as the grinding of the metallic joints made a threateningly eerie crunching sound. “This one works just fine—or do you not remember from the last time I slugged you?”

 “Oh, it’s you,” said Ron just then once he and Hermione finally made it through the crowd to meet up with Harry and his sister, looking at Malfoy as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. “Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” retorted Malfoy. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket.

“I must say, I’m rather surprised to see _you_ here as well, Elric,” Malfoy continued. “I wouldn’t think that Hogwarts would allow people like you—people who have done what you and your brother have _done_ —into the school at all.”

“People like _me_?” Ed said, his temper visibly rising. “ _People like me?!_ I’ll show you what people like _me_ can do to asswipes like _you —!!”_

“Brother, stop!” Al said, appearing from purchasing his schoolbooks just in time to grab Edward before he beat Malfoy to a pulp. “You’ll get us all in trouble!”

“So you’re Alphonse Elric,” Malfoy said, sneering once again as he looked the suit of armor before him up and down and crossed his arms. “I think my point is clear, then.”

“LET ME AT HIM, AL!!”

“Oh, shut _up_ , Edward!” Hermione hissed just as Mr. Weasley appeared at the heated scene.

“Ron!” he said, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well—Arthur Weasley.”

Mr. Weasley slowly turned around to face the intruding voice.

“…Lucius Malfoy,” he said, nodding coldly.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” said Mr. Malfoy. “All those raids…I do hope they’re paying you overtime?”

He reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of _A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration._

“Obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either Ron or Ginny.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said.

“Clearly,” said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger; Ed struggled again against his brother’s restraints as he faintly heard the blonde man mutter, “associating with _Muggles_ …”

“…And I thought your family could sink no lower.”

It took all of the strength within Arthur Weasley to keep him from throwing himself at the elder Malfoy; instead however, for the sake of the children witnessing the exchange, he held his ground, not taking his eyes off of Lucius until he had exited the store. Draco lingered a bit longer though, turning to face Harry:

“…See you at school.”

And with that he followed his father out the door, his head held high, the same sneer etched upon his pale face as when the entire conversation began.

“… _you should’ve let me at him!_ ” Ed hissed to his younger brother, who had barely saw fit to relinquish him.

“Yeah right, so you could chase him down the street? If what he said was right, brother, then I’m lucky to even have a chance to go to Hogwarts at all.”

Edward’s face fell.

“Oh,” he said, looking away. “So you heard that, huh?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Don’t believe a word of it, Al,” Ed said, frowning deeply. “We may have broken the law, but it sure as hell isn’t enough to kick us out of school.”

It was a subdued group that headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys, the Elric brothers and all their shopping would be travelling back to the Burrow. They said goodbye to the Grangers, who were leaving the pub for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley started to ask them how bus stops worked, but stopped quickly at the look on Mrs. Weasley’s face. Amidst all of the talking and preparing for travel by fireplace, Edward was still in a darkened mood. His argument with Malfoy had left him worried and royally ticked off. _What if he’s right, that now that everyone knows…they won’t let Al go to Hogwarts at all? What if they try to take him away from the school mid-term and I’m not there to knock heads for him? What kind of big brother would that make me?_ But he already knew the answer to that last question, an answer that would echo throughout his subconscious for the rest of the day:

_If I was the big brother I am supposed to be, we wouldn’t have to worry about getting kicked out of Hogwarts at all._

“Brother?”

Ed looked up from his thoughts.

“Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah…got all your stuff?”

“Yup,” the younger Elric said cheerfully, and Edward couldn’t help but notice that Al held the bag carrying his brand new wand of ask and phoenix particularly close to his metallic self.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. The Adventure Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the adventure begins...for both of the Elric brothers.

~Chapter Four: The Adventure Begins~

 

 

The time for summer to end came both far too soon and not soon enough for Alphonse. Though he was excited about finally attending Hogwarts, he was also dreading the day he would have to say goodbye to his big brother. The time he had spent at the Burrow with Ron’s family, Harry, and Ed was one of the happiest times of his life, the most fun he had since the accident. He wished more than anything that his brother was going with him to Hogwarts instead of leaving for the military.

On their last evening, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a sumptuous dinner that included all of Harry’s favorite things, ending with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. After dinner, Fred and George shot Edward a questionable look, and then grinned suddenly before bolting out of their seats and up the stairs.

“…Wonder what that was about?” Mrs. Weasley said after looking up just in time to hear the twins’ bedroom door slam. Edward rolled his eyes:

“I’m sure we’ll find out in a little bit.”

“I know that’s right,” said Ron around a mouthful of pudding. Mrs. Weasley gave him a look, and then smiled back at the Elric brothers, making Harry laugh at the bemused look upon Ron’s stuffed face.

“I don’t believe I got to see your new wand, Alphonse dear.”

“Oh,” Alphonse said, an obvious smile in his voice. “Let me show it to you, then!”

Ed laughed as his little brother excitedly hopped up from the dinner table and bolted up the stairs nearly as fast as the twins did mere minutes before. He reappeared with the thin Ollivander’s box at hand, moving to the living area where everyone had migrated to whilst he ran upstairs.

He opened the box, revealing the wand and all of its glory to the Weasley’s parents.

“Wow…” Mrs. Weasley said, gently taking it into her hands and holding it up to the light as if it were a fine piece of jewelry.

“Isn’t that something,” Arthur Weasley remarked, sitting back in his armchair and smiling at Alphonse. “You’ve got a nice wand there.”

“Well, everyone does say that Ollivander is the best,” Mrs. Weasley agreed, handing the armored boy back his wand.

“Thanks! I’m just eager to finally get to use it, now,” Alphonse said, keeping it out of the box and twirling it in his leathery hands.

Ed suddenly looked at Al’s wand with great interest, and then sprinted away and up the stairs. Once in Ron’s bedroom, where he had been staying the night ever since he arrived at the Burrow, he dove for the box in which his own wand of Elm was stowed, extracting it rapidly and running back to his brother with feverish speed. Harry, Ron and Hermione stared as he yanked Al’s wand from his grasp and eagerly held the two wands up to each other. His eyes bulged with insane excitement when he realized his wand’s tip stood above Alphonse’s

“HAH!” he bellowed in success. “My wand’s bigger than yours!”

Every sat in silence for a moment, and then all of them busted up at the same time.

“What??” Ed demanded, unable to understand why everyone was laughing at his statement.

“Seriously, brother?” Alphonse said. “You’re even sensitive about your _wand’s_ height?”

Ed wrinkled his nose, muttering for Al to shut up as he slumped down onto the sofa next to him, also twirling his dark wand in his automail fingers.

“I’m not sensitive about my height…” he muttered, to which a little hoot from the window scathingly replied. Everyone looked up to see Nova, a letter tucked into her talons, her little eyes narrowed at her master’s untrue words. _Just like me, right?_ she seemed to say as she cocked her head to the side before soaring over to land upon Alphonse’s lap.

“Nova!” Alphonse said, putting his wand down and taking the little bird in his hands as Ed grabbed the letter from her grip. “You’re alright!”

“She’s finally back to normal,” Harry said, smiling at the owl. “Good thing, too; it was weird to see her looking so gloom when she was hurt.”

“She could’ve made the flight to Resembool and back better than Errol any day,” Ron commented, “sick or not.”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Mrs. Weasley began, but stopped short when she saw Errol collapsed as a lump of ruffled gray feathers upon his perch, looking more like a beaten pillow than a live owl.

“So what did they say, your Grandma and Winry?” Ron asked, to which Ed looked up from the letter and said:

“They’re going to meet us at King’s Cross in the morning.”

“Yay!” Alphonse said. “I get to see them one more time before going off to school!”

“Exactly,” Ed said, smiling at Al. “It’s going to be weird, not seeing them every day, huh?”

“Yeah,” Al said, nodding once as he set his wand back into its case. He paused before closing the lid, however, keeping the opened wand box upon his lap.

Just then, Fred and George reappeared before them with a literal bang; they stormed down the stairs, setting off a cornucopia of Filibuster fireworks as they did so. They filled the kitchen and living room with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for at least the next half of an hour, ignoring their mother’s disapproving commentary.

After all of that excitement, they all settled down for a last mug of hot cocoa, listening to stories from Mr. Weasley and rolling their eyes at a noisy witch with a raspy voice singing on the radio above the fireplace. Amidst the chatting and singing, however, Ed noticed Alphonse slip out of the front door, slipping out of the Weasley’s eyesight with surprising stealth for his size. Harry and Ed were the only two that noticed, and Harry only had to look once at Ed to know that the older Elric was planning on following his brother, to make sure all was fine.

“Hey,” Ed said as Al looked behind him to see who had opened the front door after him. “What are you doing out here, Al?”

“Nothing,” the younger brother replied, setting the wand box in his lap down in front of him on the porch. Ed glanced at it, and then moved to sit down next to his little brother.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well then, why are you out here and not in there?” Ed asked with a confused expression on his face. Al looked over at him, and then looked back out into the night. A cool breeze floated across the porch, and Al sighed as it washed over his metal skin.

“I wanted to enjoy the night.”

Ed’s expression fell, for he knew as much as Alphonse did that the younger Elric could no longer feel the wind in his face, feel the relaxing evening air.

“I’m so sorry, Al—“

“Brother, I need to tell you something,” Al said, looking back at Ed, whose curiosity had spiked again, for the tone of Al’s voice was one of excitement, not gloominess, which is what he was expecting.

“What is it?”

“I don’t really… _know_ how to explain this, but…”

Alphonse twirled his wand within his fingers, staring down at it as he thought of the right words, making Ed sit in anticipation. Finally, Alphonse grabbed his wand’s handle and looked down at the burnt edge of the wood’s emboss as he spoke in a low voice:

“…Whenever I hold onto this wand…I can feel again.”

Edward looked like he did not register his brother’s words completely at first as he stared at Al…and then it dawned upon him, and he leapt up from his perch upon the porch.

“ _What?!_ You can—that wand—you can—?!”

“Feel again, yeah,” Al said, also standing up, wand still at hand. Another breeze floated by, and he raised his large metal arms up to catch it, laughing once as he did so. “I don’t know how it does it, but…I’m so glad it does…I missed that, Ed.”

Ed was still gaping at the wand when he heard Alphonse speak his name, and then he looked back up into his helmet. His expression was one of absolute amazement at first, but then it suddenly switched to one of contemplation. He lifted his human hand up hesitantly, carefully placing it upon Alphonse’s metallic chest, not breaking eye contact with the armored boy.

“…Can you feel that, Al?”

Alphonse nodded, placing a leathered glove over his brother’s.

“You feel warm.”

“This is amazing!” Ed exclaimed, gaping at the wand. “I can’t believe it can do that!”

“I know, right??” Alphonse said, equally as giddy. “I wonder if Mr. Ollivander knew this wand would do that…”

“I doubt it,” Ed said, tapping his chin. “He always said that the wand chooses the wizard, that every wand reacts differently with different wizards.”

He looked back at Alphonse.

“So that day in the wand shop—that’s when you first found out it did that?”

“Yep,” Alphonse said. “And once I realized it I did not want to let go of it.”

“I can understand that,” Ed said. _After all, you shouldn’t need the damned wand just to feel things a normal person feels…_

“Alphonse? Edward dear?” a voice from the doorway said. Ed and Al looked up at Mrs. Weasley as she cocked her head to the side:

“What are you doing out here? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Ed said, smiling at her. “Just enjoying the night.”

“Mhmm,” Alphonse said cheerfully. Mrs. Weasley smiled.

“Well, you two had better come in soon, now. Everyone’s on their last cup of cocoa now, because we’ve got an early day tomorrow, you know.”

“Right,” Alphonse said, making a move to follow Mrs. Weasley inside. Ed nodded:

“We’ll be in in a second, I promise.”

Mrs. Weasley nodded and smiled before shutting the door behind her. Alphonse made a move to put his wand away, but Ed held up his hand.

“Wait…before you put that away…”

He walked up to Al and wrapped his arms around the giant suit of armor, embracing his little brother as best he could while he was entrapped within that cursed armor. Alphonse looked down at Ed and returned the hug, happy that he could actually feel his brother’s arms around him for the first time in what seemed like forever.

“…Since you won’t be able to feel it when I hug you goodbye tomorrow,” Ed muttered, unable to hide the voice crack caused by emotion as he stood back and smiled up at Al. “After all, I’m gonna miss you, Al.”

“I’m going to miss you too, brother,” Al said, “Just like I missed you so much last year.”

“Heh,” Ed said, frowning slightly as he averted his eyes down to the planks in the patio. “This year’s going to be a bit different, though.”

“Right…” Al said, sighing as he followed his big brother back inside the Burrow.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“…Hey Harry…are you still awake?”

Harry turned in his sleeping bag and faced Ed. It was well past midnight, and both of the boys knew they really should be asleep, but neither of them could possibly even think of slumber due to the anticipation of the following morning. Alphonse had elected to stay downstairs for most of his visit at the Burrow, simply because he wanted to save space and he couldn’t sleep, therefore it was pointless to try and stuff him into Ron’s already-cramped room when all he would be doing during the entire night was staring out the window boredly. So Ed saw this time, with his little brother out of earshot and Ron snoring next to him, as the perfect time to talk to Harry privately.

“What’s up?”

“I just wanted to ask you something…”

“Shoot.”

Ed paused before spilling to glance back at the cracked bedroom door, however, wary of the fact that Al could possibly be right outside in the hallway. After a moment of long silence Ed was finally reassured of his brother’s absence and turned back to Harry.

“I want to ask a favor of you; I’m not going to be there at Hogwarts with Al, which worries me. I mean, it was different when I was leaving him with Granny and Winry, ‘cause I knew he’d be safe there. I’m not so sure about Hogwarts, though. It’ll be the first time away from all of us.”

Harry paused before responding, taking a moment to imagine Hogwarts with Alphonse, how the school would react to a six-foot tall walking suit of armor as a student…and he nearly snorted out a laugh. The image was close to ridiculous, in all honesty, and he seriously did not see any issues preceding Alphonse’s attendance.

“I’m sure Al is capable of taking care of himself, y’know. I mean...nobody can mess with him, can they? Not while he’s in that armor at least. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

Ed huffed:

“You don’t understand…there are two reasons I’m so concerned; one, Alphonse may be big, but he’s too nice for his own good. You and Ron had better keep an eye on him around that Malfoy bastard, we saw him in Diagon Alley. He hasn’t changed a bit—if anything, he’s gotten worse!”

“That’s true…”

“…and two; I never did tell you about this, but at the beginning of last year, Professor McGonagall she told me to be careful because not every teacher at Hogwarts was aware of mine and Alphonse’s secret…”

Harry was slightly confused:

“Ok, but that’s not the case anymore after all that happened at the end of the year.”

“Right, this is why the warning is so important, especially now that everyone knows. Think about it; there was a reason Dumbledore left some of the teachers in the dark and some were included in on everything. Now that all of the teachers know…well, who’s to say there won’t be another Quirrell incident around the corner?”

Harry blinked in surprise, and then he found his mind wandering towards a dark image of Professor Snape, Hogwarts’ potions master. “I never thought of that…”

“Do you see why I’m worried now?”

“Yeah…”

Ed sighed, frowning slightly as he fingered his pocket watch, fiddling with the lid, hiding and re-exposing the tiny clock within, over and over again.

“…So will you take care of my little brother for me, while I’m gone?”

Harry looked Ed in the eye, saw the heart-wrenching mixture of sadness and determination within his golden pupils, and nodded firmly.

“You know I will, Ed. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

Relief swept across the Fullmetal Alchemist’s face as he nodded once.

“Thanks, Harry; I knew I could count on you.”

And with that he laid back upon his pillow, opening and closing the lid of his pocket watch one last time before tossing it onto his knapsack and curling up beneath his blanket for bed.

“…Ed.”

Ed turned back towards his scarred friend.

“Yeah?”

“…You’re an amazing big brother. You know that, right?”

Ed laughed once, softly, scathingly…but stopped when he saw Harry’s serious expression. He did not agree with the boy’s words one bit, of course, for what kind of brother pressures his brother into breaking the law with him? What kind of brother leaves him to go wave a stick around for no good reason? What kind of brother deserts his little brother in a dark school full of evil and danger? Not an amazing one, that’s for sure. Maybe an amazingly horrible one, but not a good one; Ed wronged Alphonse so many times in the past, too many for his good brother title to ever be redeemed.

“Ed?”

The blonde shook his head, closing his eyes to his sins.

“Thanks……but I could be better.”

“But you’re—“

“Harry.”

The scarred boy closed his mouth at the tone of Ed’s voice, but the words he was about to speak out loud were easily readable in his green eyes, he knew that. This was why Ed refused to look him in the eye as he sighed and spoke with finality:

“…I’m going to sleep now. See you in the morning.”

“…Right,” Harry said, also sighing, knowing that it would be pointless to try and talk to Ed about the matter anymore that night.

“Goodnight, Edward.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

It took a long while to get started the next morning. They were up at dawn, Edward and Harry slightly sleepier than the others, but somehow they still seemed to have a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about in a bad mood looking for spare socks and quills; people kept colliding on the stairs—or, in Alphonse’s case, tripping and falling down them—half-dressed with bits of toast in their hands. Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck tripping over a stray chicken as he crossed the yard carrying Ginny’s trunk to the car.

“How do you think,” Harry whispered to Ed as they watched Arthur Weasley struggling with getting all of Ginny’s things into the small Ford Angela, “he will manage to fit ten people, seven large trunks, three owls and a rat in there?”

“Good question,” Ed said, crossing his arms as he watched Mr. Weasley now spastically chasing Fred and George, who were insisting upon cheering on their father on every little thing he did that morning, away from the car and across the front yard, yet again almost tripping over a chicken in the process. “But it should be good entertainment, at least.”

Neither of the two boys had reckoned, of course, with the special features that Mr. Weasley had added.

“Not a word to Molly,” he whispered to Edward and Alphonse as he opened the trunk and showed them how it had been magically expanded so that the luggage fitted easily.

When at least they were all in the car, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Edward, Percy, and Alphonse were all sitting comfortably side by side, and said, “Muggles _do_ know more than we give them credit for, don’t they?” She and Ginny got into the front seat, which had been stretched so that it resembled a park bench. “I mean, you’d never know it was this roomy from the outside, would you?”

Mr. Weasley started up the engine and they trundled out of the yard, Harry, Ed and Al turning back for a last look at the house. They barely had time to wonder when they’d see it again when they were back—George had forgotten his box of Filibuster fireworks. Five minutes after that, they skidded to a halt in the yard so that Fred could run in for his broomstick. They had almost reached the highway when Ginny shrieked that she’d left her diary. By the time she had clambered back into the car, they were running very late, and tempers were running high.

Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch and then at his wife.

“Molly, dear—“

“ _No_ , Arthur—“

“No one would see—this little button here is an Invisibility Booster I installed—that’d get us up in the air—then we fly above the clouds. We’d be there in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser—“

“I said _no_ , Arthur, not in broad daylight—“

They reached King’s Cross at a quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley dashed across the road to get trolleys for their trunks and they all hurried into the station.

“Ed! Al!”

“Winry!” Ed and Al yelled in unison, running over to where Winry and Granny Pinako stood by the entrance to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Before Ed could say anything further in the form of a greeting, Winry threw her arms around him and squeezed him into a tight hug. Ed gulped and blushed as she let go, smiling at him with a similar blush upon her fair cheeks.

“I missed you, you big dummy.”

Ed raised an eyebrow but returned the smile, turning to Pinako next. She held up her hand in interruption to his greeting, however, gesturing to the ticking clock above their heads.

“Let’s get onto the platform before chit chatting, alright?” she said, to which Mrs. Weasley nodded firmly.

“She’s right, you’ll miss the train if we don’t hurry; Percy first, now.”

Percy strode briskly forward and vanished. Mrs. Weasley nodded at Pinako, Winry and the brothers, to which they followed the elder Weasley sibling through the wall…

The great scarlet Hogwarts Express greeted them grandly. Edward and Alphonse could not help grinning widely at each other before following Winry, Percy and Pinako down to where they could load their trunks and board the train. As they waltzed towards the red train, however, both of the brothers noticed that the armored Alphonse was receiving quite a few weird looks…looks of intimidation and fear, bewilderment and even the occasional glare. Alphonse felt a bit of nerves creep up on him as he turned to his brother, who was making quite a point of not making eye contact with anyone they walked past.

“Brother?”

Edward looked up at Alphonse as he asked feebly:

“…Am I scary?”

Edward chortled, looking up at Al with a smirk.

“Please,” he said in reply; “You’re kindness in a can.”

Even as he said it, though, Ed knew that there was far more to the entire situation than what Al was assuming. After what he had heard from the Malfoys back at Flourish and Blotts, he truly did fear for his little brother’s safety at Hogwarts that year.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George and Ginny all caught up with them soon, but the entire group quickly noticed Harry and Ron’s absence.

“Where’d they go?” Mrs. Weasley said in bewilderment, looking over at her husband, who also shrugged.

The big red locomotive let out a long, high-pitched whistle just then, telling everyone still standing on the platform that it was time to go.

“Come on, Ginny, we’ll take you onto the train,” Fred said, gently pushing his sister towards the train. Before the twins followed her onto the vessel, however, they both did an about-face towards Edward and saluted firmly.

“’Twas a pleasure serving you, Fullmetal Alchemist, sir!” they said in militaristic unison, grinning as Edward’s face broke out into a fit of laughter at their ridiculousness.

“Edward! Alphonse!”

Both Elric brothers quickly waved at the twins before turning to face the female voice calling them from behind; Hermione.

“Have either of you seen Harry or Ron?” she said, looking first at Ed and then facing Al. “We have to get on the train now!”

“I think they got stuck on the other side of the platform or something,” Ed said worriedly, glancing back into the crowd. Mrs. Weasley walked up to them and quickly said:

“Don’t either of you worry about Harry or Ron; if they miss the train, we’ll see to it that they get to Hogwarts, alright?”

“But for right now, Al,” Pinako said strictly, “You need to go.”

The brothers nodded; Alphonse hugged Pinako and then Winry quickly.

“Be sure you write a lot, Al!” Winry said, shooting Edward a look. “Don’t be like this one was.”

“Hey, I wrote!” Ed complained.

“I never saw a letter!” Winry retorted. “No big deal, though, I don’t matter; just made that automail you’re abusing is all…”

Edward stuck his tongue out at her before walking with Alphonse and Hermione up to the train. The two Elrics looked at each other, and then embraced once more, only this time Alphonse unfortunately could not feel his brothers arms around his metal torso, could not feel his cheek pressed upon the cool armored surface. But it was a necessary embrace nonetheless, for neither of the brothers knew exactly when they would see each other again. They had never known such separation like this, in which one was off on an adventure while the other was thrust into the darkness of the Amestrian military. Neither of them wanted to let go, but the train’s whistle was insistent, the dinging clock in the background signaling that their time had at last run out.

“I’ll miss you, Al…” Edward whispered, looking up at his brother and smiling sadly. “More than you know it.”

“I’ll miss you too, Brother. I’m still going to try to write to you, even though you’ll be all over Amestris.”

“Hey, Nova’ll find me alright!” Ed said, rolling his eyes. “She seems to be especially good at hunting me down…”

They both laughed at the sour-natured joke, and then it was over.

Alphonse followed Hermione onto the train, shooting his brother one more glance before the doors closed behind him and the train began to pull out of the station. He stood there, staring out of the window until Edward’s billowing red coat completely faded from view. Hermione waited patiently for him, trying to ignore the silence that had filled their part of the train upon the young Elric’s arrival. Al noticed it, too, when he finally turned away from the window to meet the stares of every other Hogwarts student before him. He was confused at their almost fearful expressions, identical to the ones he received from the station itself, but before he could try to talk to them, Hermione grabbed Al’s hand and pulled him down the aisle.

“Why is everybody looking at me like that?” he whispered to the bushy-haired girl. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him and shook her head.

“They’re acting as if they’ve never seen a suit of armor before,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could manage while searching for a place for them to sit. “Just ignore them, Alphonse.”

“Am I scaring them?” he asked softly, despite what his brother had told him back at King’s Cross. Hermione once more shook her head:

“…I’ll tell you once we find a seat, alright?”

At that moment she stopped in her track, accidentally causing Alphonse to bump into her.

“Ow,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” the young Elric said feebly.

Hermione was not listening, however; before Al could inquire as to what held her gaze she opened the compartment door in front of them.

“Ginny,” she said. “Can we sit with you?”

The youngest Weasley looked up from her seat in the otherwise empty compartment at Hermione and Al and nodded, grateful to have someone to sit with on the ride to Hogwarts after all. Alphonse sat across form the two girls, placing his knapsack on the floor by his feet.

“Have either of you seen Ron or Harry?” Ginny immediately inquired, to which both Hermione and Al shook their heads.

“Your mother said she would see to them getting to Hogwarts alright, though, so there’s nothing to be too worried about,” Hermione reassured the obviously antsy Weasley. Ginny nodded once and then returned to blankly staring out of the window. Hermione looked across the way at Al to find the two dots of light that glowed from deep within the recesses of his empty helmet staring expectantly at her.

She huffed:

“Alright Alphonse, if you _must_ know—“

“Hey Hermione—? Oh!”

The three of them looked back towards the door to find a wide-eyed Neville Longbottom standing there, inadvertedly staring at Alphonse.

“Uh…hi there…” he said nervously, suddenly looking as if he wished to be anywhere but exactly where he was. Hermione cleared her throat:

“Hi Neville,” she said pleasantly, gesturing to Al. “You’ve met Edward’s brother, Alphonse before, right?”

“Y-yes…”

“Yeah, I remember seeing you at the end of the year, when I went up to the school,” Alphonse said in a friendly voice. “Nice to see you again!”

Neville only nodded, and then looked away. Alphonse looked at him for a moment, and then sighed heavily.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not, Alphonse!” Hermione answered for Neville, who merely glanced over at her, a look of terror upon his face. “Neville has just…just been hearing rumors.”

“Well, what kind of rumors?” Alphonse said, trying not to let his feelings get hurt. “Maybe I can help set them straight so we can be friends?”

“They aren’t rumors, Hermione,” Neville said, reluctantly sitting down next to Alphonse. “I heard about him from people other than Malfoy.”

“Don’t listen to them, Neville!” Hermione said.

“How can’t I?” Neville asked, his voice shaking. “If everything is true, and if what he and Ed did is as bad as they all said that it is, then I don’t feel safe going to school with him!”

 “ _Neville_!” Hermione gasped, absolutely horrified at that fact that Neville spoke out about someone sitting right next to him. “How can you say that??”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Al said quietly, looking down into his lap. “Now I understand why everyone keeps staring at me…I guess I am kind of scary after all.”

The three other students sitting around the younger Elric remained silent, unsure of what to say or how to react to the hurt boy’s humble reaction. Alphonse himself was not sure of how to react to Neville’s harsh accusation, but eventually he made a sound of exhalation and looked back at the nervous boy sitting next to him.

“What exactly did you hear about me that made you so afraid?” he began in a light voice, trying not to frighten the kid even more than he already was. Neville frowned slightly as he explained:

“I’ve heard things about you two breaking the law and…and k-killing someone with your alchemy. They say that you killed them when you tried to bring your mum back to life, and now the Ministry of Magic’s after you and your brother.”

Hermione gaped at him.

“That is the most _ridiculous—_!”

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Alphonse said. “Those other people just misunderstood.”

“Misunderstood??” Hermione said.

“It sounds more like they’ve completely got their facts wrong,” Ginny piped up softly, looking at Alphonse with a great perplexing gaze. There was no way someone like him could have killed, not even a fly would be in danger of this kind soul.

“Not completely…” Alphonse said, repeating Neville’s words in his mind. “The part where we tried to bring back our mother and broke the law was right. No, we did not kill anybody—I can’t even begin to think of where that came from, my brother and I—“

“Well, they say that whoever—whatever—you brought back died because of you two,” Neville piped up.

Alphonse pondered this… _was its death our fault? I had never thought of it that way……is it possible that we killed mom a second time_?

As soon as he thought it, he felt panic rise up into his armor, a tremor surging through his soul...

“Alphonse?”

“Oh, sorry Hermione,” Al said, shaking his helmet. “What did you say?”

“I said that doesn’t count as you two killing someone, it wasn’t your fault that what happened happened. It was just a transmutation gone wrong, right?”

“Yeah, right,” Al agreed. Hermione definitely knew how to reassure her friends.

“But what about that part about the Ministry being after you two?” Ginny could not help but inquire.

“Well…” Al began, thinking back to what Draco Malfoy had told Edward back in Diagon Alley.

“…Malfoy did mention something about being surprised that Hogwarts let me attend at all this year, so I supposed that could mean that the Ministry is angry at us. I guess he would know better than I would since his dad works there.”

He looked at Neville.

“But I promise you we did not do anything worth sending us to prison for or anything like that. We didn’t really know what we were doing when we did that in the first place. All we wanted was to see our mom again, not to break the law. We’re just kids—all of us are just kids—and kids aren’t capable of being dangerous, right?”

Neville pondered this as Hermione and Ginny watched him curiously.

“…No, I guess not. You’re probably right,” he said, offering the suit of armor a small, sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, Alphonse. I should have gotten to know you first before listening to what everyone else said. After all, if you really are related to Ed, then you couldn’t possibly be a bad person.”

Al nodded once, offering a gloved hand out to the boy:

“So, does this mean we’re friends after all?”

Neville gladly took the Elric’s hand and shook it.

“You bet it does!”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Dumbledore signed his name with a slight flourish, glad to be done with this particular letter he was working on. It was something he had been unintentionally putting off for quite some time now, what with the new school year literally right around the corner and with the occasional flit of doubt sweeping across his bright mind. But alas, even great wizards must accept some things that cannot be altered, cannot be changed.

“May I inquire as to what you are so thoughtfully finishing up work on as a train full of students approaches and will arrive in a matter of half-hours, Professor?” the deputy headmistress spoke from the doorway. Dumbledore looked up at her, a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, do come in, Professor McGonagall.”

“Already have, of course,” the old woman replied, a bit curtly than the headmaster was used to. “I know what you’re up to.”

“Do you now?” the gray-haired wizard said, standing from his desk as he sealed the letter he had just completed in a parchment envelope. McGonagall nodded once.

“Do you honestly think the Ministry will grant Mister Elric that pardon that he needs?”

“Yes, in fact,” Dumbledore said as he wrote the words _Ministry of Magic_ upon the top of the envelope. “I honestly do.”

“And why is that, may I ask?”

“Before I answer your rather sternly assertive questioning, Professor,” Dumbledore said as he sent an owl sitting patiently upon his windowsill off with the letter in question, “May I inquire as to what you have sent to the Ministry yourself not even two hours before you arrived here in this very office?”

McGonagall opened and closed her mouth, speechless.

“How did you—?”

“I am the headmaster of this premises; nothing that happens here at this castle goes on without my knowledge of its occurrence,” he stated simply, digging through his desk drawers. “Now, where did I put that thing…?”

McGonagall frowned.

“You know as much as I do that I had to send that out to the Ministry, or else Alphonse would not have been permitted to study magic at all.”

“You already care for this boy so much…and yet he is not even in your house.”

“Not _yet_ , Professor.”

“True,” Dumbledore said, coming up from his searching position and sitting back in his chair. “Very true. However, I did not see any reason to be so concerned about such a thing. I wonder—“

“Why I was—no, _am_ so concerned?”

“Yes, precisely,” the headmaster said, smiling knowingly. McGonagall sighed, her hat drooping slightly upon her head.

“I confess; I did read that letter of yours.”

“Which letter, may I ask?”

“You know which one, sir,” McGonagall said. “The one threatening not only the safety of the Elric brothers should they choose to continue to attend this school, but also the safety of any student caught associating with the brothers.”

“Ah,” Dumbledore said darkly. “Of course; _that_ letter.”

“Yes sir. So of course I was concerned!” the deputy headmistress said. “And I figured that even if you send something to the Ministry in regards to that threat—did you, by any chance?”

“No, Professor, I did not.”

“Oh,” she said, frowning slightly. “Alright; anyhow, I still figured that having more than one opinion would help with the overall situation.”

“Hmm…I do see fit to agree with you. And I assume that you thought I was writing to them about that exact subject matter just now, did you not?”

“Yes, well…” McGonagall said, looking away. “I suppose I assumed wrong.”

“It is quite all right, Professor,” Dumbledore said as he stood from his seat. “I was actually writing about an Elric, but not Alphonse. I saw fit to write a pardon to the Ministry for Edward’s use of Alchemy.”

“Oh,” McGonagall said, raising her eyebrows.

“Yes, for if you remember correctly, students are not allowed to use their magic outside of school.”

“That is correct.”

“However,” Dumbledore continued, “In order to serve in his country’s military, Edward would _have_ to utilize his alchemy. Therefore he needed to be excused from that particular law, at least for the time being.”

“Ah, right,” McGonagall said. “I supposed that does make sense—“

She stopped midsentence, however, thinking over Dumbledore’s words.

“…What do you mean by, ‘for the time being,’ sir? Do you really think Edward will return to this school?”

“Do you think he will?”

“I…”

Professor McGonagall sighed heavily.

“I honestly do not know. I keep hoping that he will, but…I just don’t know, sir.”

Professor Dumbledore looked away from his deputy headmistress and turned his gaze out the window, out at the sun as it dipped down below the horizon line, casting an eerie glow upon the magical castle’s landscape…

“Come, Professor,” Dumbledore spoke suddenly. “I believe we have students to welcome down in the Great Hall.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“First years, over here!” called out an older witch from in of the grand staircase, motioning with her palm for all of them to approach. Alphonse tried not to take notice to all the stares and whispers he was attracting as he clanked over to where she stood.

“…Welcome to Hogwarts, everyone,” said McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will of course be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within the school. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house had its own noble history and each had produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you at here at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points if awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“So, without further ado, let us begin. Form a line and follow me, everybody!”

Alphonse’s eyes widened at the sight of the Great Hall; it was every bit as magnificent and grand as his brother foretold. With his bout of excitement, however, also came a handful of nerves. _I have to be sorted in front of all these people…?_ He was extremely happy when Ginny bounded up to his side, grateful to have a friend that was in his grade level.

“Did your brother tell you,” she asked in a slightly breathless manner, “What we had to do to be sorted?”

“Yeah, we just have to try on an old, talking hat,” Alphonse said. He watched as the young redhead sighed in relief and inquired:

“Did Ron not tell you anything?”

“No,” she said, pouting slightly. “He said something about a troll to try and scare me…”

Alphonse chuckled slightly at the ridiculousness of such a thought. _I bet Ed would have preferred fighting a troll to that hat, though_ , he though as they all stopped in front of a small stool with a hat upon it.

“That must be it, there,” Ginny whispered to Alphonse, who nodded once. Both of them took a step back from the stool, however, when a slit opened up horizontally above the hat’s rim and it began to sing:

 

_There are magical items_

_That are made for fun_

_And magical items all_

_Created to cause pain;_

_But rather than being_

_An item full of puns,_

_I am a hat with a brain!_

_Just place me upon your head_

_And you will see_

_How I can sort you all_

_Quite gracefully_

_Into four different houses_

_For all different kinds of people…_

_…There is Ravenclaw,_

_Where the brightest of the smarts all dwell;_

_Hufflepuff,_

_Where a lot of nifty finders swell;_

_Gryffindor,_

_In which the very bravest stand true…_

_And Slytherin,_

_Where you will find many friends much like you._

_Of all these four, only one_

_Will suit you best._

_As for the choice, refer to me,_

_I’ll do a magical test._

_For remember all, I am not_

_A hat of pain…_

_I am simply a hat_

_That has a brain!_

And thus the sorting had begun.

“Aarons, Matthew!”

Alphonse watched as the first first year stepped up to the stool, trying to remember the name of the house his brother was in. “Hmmm…” he could hear the Sorting Hat contemplate with him. After all, he would not want to be in any other house other than the one Ed once called home… _but what was it called again? Griffindee? Griffindine? Griffi—_

“GRIFFINDOR!”

“That’s what house I want to be in,” Ginny whispered weakly, not taking her eyes off of the boy until he sat down at a long table filled with cheering and celebrating Gryffindors.

“My whole family’s in it…”

“Yeah, my brother was in that house, too,” Alphonse said. Ginny sighed:

“How embarrassing would it be if I was the only one in the family not be in it?”

“Well, the way I see it, if your whole family was in that house, then it’s almost certain that you’ll be in it, too.”

She looked up into his helmet with wide, hope-filled blue eyes.

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Al said cheerfully. Ginny smiled.

“I really hope we’re in the same house, Alphonse,” she said shyly. “You’re such a good friend.”

Alphonse did not know exactly what to say to such a big compliment, so he settled with flusterdly nodding and saying:

“I hope we are, too.”

“Elric, Alphonse!”

“Here goes nothing,” he whispered to Ginny before approaching the stool with as much courage as he could possibly muster up. He found it really hard to be confident, however, when he could hear a bunch of whispers at the sound of his name.

“Did she say Elric?”

“That’s him?”

“Of course it is, look at that armor!”

“Yeah, that’s the boy that doesn’t have a body.”

“How is that even _possible_?”

“Oh yeah, I heard about what he and his brother did.”

“If _he’s_ here, then where is Edward?”

“Have a seat, Alphonse,” McGonagall said.

“Oh, right,” he said, carefully sitting his giant body down upon the little stool. “Sorry,” he muttered as the professor place the Sorting Hat upon his helmet.

“Ah-ha; here’s the other child of Hohenheim!” the hat immediately proclaimed after touching Al’s armor. “Yes, I had the……honor of sorting your brother last year—he was a tricky one, he was, and I am still not certain that I placed him correctly—“

Alphonse found himself gripping the edge of the stool slightly, stopping after hearing the wood crackle softly. _What does that mean? Was Edward never supposed to be in Gryffindor? What does that mean for me…?_

“—but _you_ , on the other hand, are an easier subject…yes, I know precisely where to put you, Alphonse Elric. I know exactly where you belong…”

 

~~*e.s.*~~


	6. Of Magic and Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter titled in salute to Steinback's "Of Mice and Men..." even though it is neither about mice nor of men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Five: Of Magic and Mystery~

 

 

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Alphonse made a sound of exhalation, as if he was holding a breath in the entire time he sat upon the stool. Professor McGonagall smiled at him as she took the hat and watched him join the long table of cheering Gryffindors, taking a seat right next to Hermione Granger and the Weasley twins. Everyone in his house appeared to be incredibly excited over the fact that he was now one of them, despite all of the whispers the young Elric had heard on the train and right before being sorted. If he had the ability to do so Al just knew he would have been grinning from ear to ear.

Already he could not wait to write to his brother and tell him he got sorted into his house.

“Weasley, Ginny!”

All of the relief that had filled his metal body vanished when he saw poor Ginny, shaking with nervousness in her oversized robes. He saw Fred, George and Percy sit up a little straighter next to him, also eager to see their sister sorted…

“ _Yet another_Weasley!” they heard the sorting hat proclaim, to which little Ginny’s ears turned as red as her hair. “I know _just_ what to do with you:

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Al joined the older Weasleys and Hermione in cheering wildly for the smiling redhead, who stumbled slightly as she hurried over to where they all sat.

“Congrats, sis!” Fred and George said in unison, both of them offering up their hands for a high five at the same time as well. Percy nodded and smiled as well.

“Well done,” he said as Hermione gave her a big hug.

“We all told you you’d be a Gryffindor for sure!” the bushy-haired girl told Ginny, who looked over at Alphonse, who was reaching across the table for his own high-five and smiled bigger.

“Yeah, I guess you were right,” she said as she slapped Alphonse’s leather-bound hand with a flourish, plopping down into the seat right next to the armored Elric, still smiling in immense relief as she did so.

Just a few more names were called forth to be sorted, and then the headmaster stood from his perch at the high table and spoke to the school.

“Welcome all to a new year at Hogwarts!” he said, his arms extended out as if he meant to give everybody in the hall a bear hug. “I know that you are all eager to get on with your banquet, and so I will let you do so without further ado. Tuck in!”

Dinner went by quickly for Alphonse, for once Dumbledore had sat back down, mountainous plates and platters of food appeared before them in the center of the long tables. Immediately everyone around him dove into their meal, but Al was able to pass the time with conversation. He received a few questionable looks from other Gryffindors sitting around him because he was not eating, but none of them inquired as to why that was. Even though he was officially a Gryffindor, it appeared that his house still did not know just what to make of him.

Hermione and the Weasleys knew better, however, and made as much conversation with him as possible so as to avoid being rude.

“I’ve been meaning to ask this, Alphonse,” Hermione said, but then pursed her lips and spoke a little bit quieter: “but I don’t want to be rude…”

“But now I’m curious!” Alphonse said, sitting up a little higher. “Go on and ask.”

“Ok, well…you know how at the end of last year when we asked you if you could perform alchemy without a circle like Edward can and you said know?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, why is that?”

Alphonse began to answer, but then stopped.

“…I don’t know, actually. Brother and I still can’t figure out why he can do it anyway. The only other person we know that can do that is our teacher, but we never asked her how she did it. We were too afraid to.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side.

“I’m going to research that…” she said absently.

“Let me know if you find something, ok? And maybe I can help you out sometime, too,” Al said, to which Hermione nodded once, already looking eager to read up on this new subject.

Ginny looked across the table at the book-loving girl.

“…Harry and Ron still aren’t here.”

“I know,” Hermione said worriedly, turning and looking back towards the large double doors at the front of the Great Hall. “I do hope they’re ok.”

“Didn’t you hear?” a messy-haired boy said from down the table. All of the Weasleys, Hermione and Al jerked their heads toward the kid.

“…Hear what?” Al inquired.

“Someone said that they took a flying car to the school and crashed into a tree with it,” a buck-toothed girl seated across from the boy told them.

“Yeah,” the boy piped up, “And I heard that they got expelled for it too!”

“That’s rubbish!” Fred and George said in disbelief. The boy shrugged:

“That’s what we were told. Why else would Professor Snape have left dinner so early?”

“And he looked furious, too!” the girl exclaimed. Hermione and Ginny looked at each other.

“Oh no…” Ginny said.

“That just doesn’t sound right, though,” Hermione said, frowning. “Something’s missing.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” George said. Fred looked at his twin:

“Let’s hope it’s a joke, or else Ron will have started the year off better than us.”

“And we can’t allow _that_ , now can we?” George agreed. They looked at Hermione and grinned, to which she rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Alphonse looked back at the door and watched as a black-haired, hook-nosed man strode in, an unhappy expression on his already scary-looking face. _That must be Snape, the teacher brother told me to be careful around…_

He followed the teacher until he sat down at the high table with all the other professors from the corner of his eye, and jumped slightly when he saw Snape lift his head and glare right toward him.

“What’s the matter, Al?”

Alphonse turned and looked at Hermione, then back at Snape, who was no longer looking in his direction and instead speaking with the wizard seated to the right of him.

“…Nothing.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Needless to say there was an uproar in the Gryffindor common room that night when Harry and Ron walked in. Al looked up from his seat on the sofa in time to see arms reaching through the portrait hole to pull the two vagabonds inside, leaving Hermione to scramble in after them.

“Harry! Ron!” Alphonse leapt from his seat and ran after them. “You didn’t get expelled after all!”

“Luckily,” Harry remarked, grinning up at the young Elric as Lee Jordan yelled:

“Brilliant! Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people’ll be talking about that one for years—“

“Good for you,” said a fifth year Harry had never spoken to; someone was patting him on the back as though he’d just won a marathon; Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, “Why couldn’t we’ve come in the car, eh?”

Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but Harry could see one person who didn’t look happy at all. Alphonse followed the boy’s gaze and could see Percy trying to get near enough to start telling them off. He looked back as Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in the prefects direction. Ron got the point at once.

“Got to get upstairs—bit tired,” Harry said, and Alphonse glanced back at Hermione, and then followed the two of the as they pushed their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and to the dormitories.

“’Night,” the three of them called back to Hermione, who was now wearing a scowl just like Percy’s.

At last they reached the door of their old dormitory, which now had a sign on it saying SECOND YEARS. They entered the familiar, circular room, with its five four-posters hung with red velvet and its high, narrow windows. Their trunks had been brought up for them and stood at the end of their beds…except for one bed, which was missing its trunk. Harry and Ron stared silently across the room at the vacant living space for a long moment before Ron finally spoke:

“It’s going to be weird, with one less person now.”

“Is that where Ed used to sleep?” Al asked from the doorway. Harry turned and motioned for him to go ahead and enter the room, and then nodded.

“You’re right, Ron,” Harry said. “The room already feels different without him here.”

They did not have much time to dwell upon the missing Elric for much longer, however, as the dormitory door flew open and in came the other second year Gryffindor boys they roomed with, Seamus Finnigan and Neville Longbottom.

“ _Unbelievable_!” beamed Seamus.

“Amazing,” said Neville, awestruck.

Ron and Harry looked at each other and couldn’t help but grin. Alphonse looked on to the scene, smiling to himself on the inside as he realized why Edward loved to hang out with these guys; after all, they are just as adventurous and reckless as he is. At least Alphonse would not be missing out on any of that while being away from his brother for his first year at Hogwarts.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Edward huffed heavily; yet again he was sitting reluctantly in Colonel Mustang’s office, awaiting orders from possibly the most annoying, loathsome man in the universe. Ed even hated Mustang more than his old potion’s master, and _that_ was saying something! At least he only had to see Snape once or twice a week back at Hogwarts; he had to report to Colonel Mustang twenty-four/seven because he was his commanding officer….

But it gets worse; not only is he Ed’s superior in the military’s ranking system, but he also had two more things on Ed. First of all, he was the only one in the Amestrian military (minus his First Lieutenant, of course) that knew of his and Al’s secret, their crime of attempting human transmutation. If anyone higher-ranking than Mustang ever found out about that, Ed would be kicked out of the military for sure, and then his last chance of finding a way to restore Alphonse would be ruined.

The second thing was where Edward spent all of the last year. Of course Mustang demanded to know where he had run off to, especially since Granny, Winry and Al all decided to be super secretive every time he visited them in inquiry. It was a very long and complicated explanation to be given out to somebody like the Colonel, but eventually he bought it, and in the process decided that such a far-fetched thing would be best kept out of the military’s lime-light. _After all,_ Mustang had commented, _you’re enough of a freak as it is, Elric. Let’s keep that ‘w’-word out of sight, alright?_

“Fullmetal.”

Edward rolled his eyes; _speak of the devil…_

Mustang sat down behind his desk, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head, looking at Ed amusedly.

“What brings you here?”

Ed raised an eyebrow at his smart-ass of a commanding officer.

“ _You’re_ the one who told _me_ to come.”

“Ah, that’s right…” Mustang said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. After one last mischievous grin he replaced his acts of annoyance with a serious façade, grabbing a folder off of his desk and gesturing for Edward to take it.

“Thought this might spike your interest.”

Ed raised an eyebrow as he rose from the couch to take the file folder. When he opened it, what he read was not what he expected.

“…Why would I be interested in this?”

“Keep reading,” Mustang said lazily, turning his back to Ed and folding his arms. Ed huffed as he continued reading the papers within the mysterious folder in his grasp…

… _fountains of wine…_

_…’miracle after miracle’…_

“… _descendant of a god_ —what is _that_ all about?”

“That’s what I said, too,” Mustang said, turning back around to face Ed. “This town, Leor, has been thriving thanks to the daily ‘miracles’ performed by this priest guy, Father Cornello. They all believe that he’s some kind of holy man invested with god-like powers because he keeps on performing exuberant acts. I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking he’s just an advanced alchemist of some sort...”

 _Or a wizard_ , Ed found himself thinking suddenly, much to his own surprise. It did make sense, however... _after all, Hermione herself turned water into pumpkin juice last year…but if he isn’t one, then there is no way he could be doing all that stuff with alchemy, not according to all the laws. The only way he could achieve that level of alchemy would be with…_

“The Stone,” he spoke out loud, to which Mustang nodded once.

“Now you’re catching on.”

“…There is a train leaving for the east at nine am tomorrow morning. I would suggest you be on it, Fullmetal.”

Edward grinned mischievously:

“Count on it.”

_Tap tap tap._

Mustang blinked in confusion, then turned around to see a large brown owl sitting patiently outside his window, tapping lightly upon the glass with his beak, a letter in his talons. Upon seeing Edward looking around Mustang at the source of the tapping, the owl waved its wings once. Mustang frowned slightly as he cracked the window open enough to retrieve the envelope from the creature, then stood back and watched with Edward as it hooted once and flew up and away.

“It’s for you,” Mustang said, thrusting the envelope at Ed, who stared at Mustang.

“You didn’t even _look_ at it! How do you know it’s mine?”

“Tell me, Fullmetal; who else would be receiving mail by means of owls here?”

Ed glared vehemently up at his superior officer.

“Fair enough…” Ed said, snatching the envelope from the Flame Alchemist. Sure enough, it was addressed to him, and bore the seal of the Ministry of Magic on the back.

 _Ah hell…_ Edward thought as he made a move to rip the envelope open—but did not have the chance to before it ripped itself open, its creases and seal taking the shape of a woman’s face as it spoke to him:

“ _Dear Mister Edward Elric_ ,” it began in a loud, pronounced, female voice. Edward nervously glanced back at Mustang and the rest of the people in the room before turning back to the talking letter.

 

“ _We have received notice from your headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry requesting that the_ Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery _and the_ International Confederation of Wizards Statute of Secrecy _be reconsidered for your current requirements. If we were informed correctly, you are now currently serving under the Amestrian Military as a State Alchemist, a title that requires you to use alchemy on a daily basis for your work. Based on these prerequisites, we in the Improper Use of Magic Office have decided, in your favor, to not only overlook your previous four breaches of the_ Decree for the Reasonably Restriction of Underage Sorcery _, but to grant you excuse from that particular part of our law; in addition, we excuse you from the_ Statute of Secrecy _as well in the process._

“ _However, we give you permission only with the following strict conditions:_

_1)_ _The only form of magic you have been granted permission to use outside of the Trace is alchemy. Any wandwork, potion-making, charms or other hexes reported upon with result in the expulsion of your privileges._

_2)_ _You are to report back to either this department or your headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, should the need to use any other form of magic be required as per your position in the Amestrian Military._

_3)_ _You are also to send a monthly report of your alchemic performances to this department in order for us to keep track of your magic-usage and to make sure you are not misusing your rights._

_4)_ _Only your department in the Amestrian Military is allowed knowledge of your being a wizard. Should anyone else find out you should immediately report back to the military in order to avoid being revoked of your privileges._

“ _Should you have any questions upon anything aforementioned in this notice, feel free to contact either this department or your headmaster with all further inquiries. We hope you find success in your military career, Mr. Elric._

“ _Reguards,_

 _Mafalda Hopkirk_ ,” were the last words uttered by the talking enveloped before it finally folded back up into itself and fell down to the floor at Edward’s feet. The young alchemist was scared to bend over and pick it up, worried that if he touched it, it would rise up and recite the letter all over again. Thankfully it remained still upon entering his grasp, however, so he finally got the chance to look around at all of the stunned looks on everyone’s faces. Mustang and First Lieutenant Hawkeye remained stoic-looking and silent, but they were the only ones. Breda and Fury’s expressions were the best, for they were a cross between horror-struck and confused, whereas everybody else just chose to stare at Edward, waiting for him to explain the odd occurrence.

Ed glanced once more at Mustang before sighing heavily.

“Well,” he said with a shrug. “I guess the secret’s out. I’m kind of a wizard, guys.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Alphonse’s first day of classes started off with a definite bang. Things started to get weird at breakfast in the Great Hall. The four long house tables were laden with tureens of breakfast foods beneath the enchanted ceiling (today, a rather dull, cloudy gray); Al, Harry and Ron sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione, who had her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ propped open against a milk jug. There was a slight stiffness in the way she said “Morning” to Harry and Ron, and a very obvious cheery look on her face when she glanced up and greeted Alphonse immediately following—which told Harry that she was still disapproving of the way he and Ron had arrived. Neville Longbottom, on the other hand, greeted all three of them cheerfully.

“Mail’s due any minute—I think Gran’s sending a few things I forgot.”

“Hmm…” Alphonse said thoughtfully, wondering just how the mail would arrive. Surely they all would be receiving things via owls, but how did their system work exactly…?

Harry had only just started his porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, answering Al’s silent question by circling the hall and randomly dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville’s head. As the post was free-falling, Ginny suddenly appeared and hurriedly plopped down next to Alphonse.

“Hi; woke up late?” Al said by means of greeting, to which Ginny nodded as she hastily scooped food onto her empty plate.

“Just a bit, yeah,” she said, offering her friend a tired grin as she poured herself some pumpkin juice.

Suddenly, something large and gray fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying them all with milk and feathers.

“ _Errol_!” said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

“Oh no—“ Ron gasped.

“It’s all right, he’s still alive,” said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

“It’s not that—it’s _that_.”

Ron was pointing at the red envelope. It looked quite ordinary to Harry and Alphonse, but Ron and Neville were both looking at it as though they expected it to explode.

“Hey look, everyone!” Seamus suddenly yelled from across the table, obviously trying not to laugh. “Weasley’s got a Howler!”

Ron blanched at the word. Alphonse looked over and inquired:

“What’s a Howler?”

“Yeah,” Harry piped up, equally as curious. Neville was about to answer—when the envelope started to smoke.

“You’d better open it, Ron,” he said in a timid whisper.

Harry and Al looked from their petrified faces to the red envelope. Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol’s beak, and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers in his ears. A split second later, Al knew why. He thought for a moment it _had_ exploded; a roar of sound filled the huge hall, shaking dust from the ceiling.

 _“RONALD WEASLEY!!”_ Mrs. Weasley’s amplified voice roared from the envelope, which had risen up and taken the shape of a woman’s face and was now screaming at Ron:

_“HOW DARE YOU STEAL THAT CAR—I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY’D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET A HOLD OF YOU, I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE—“_

Alphonse felt so bad for Ron as people throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, making the red-faced ginger sink so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

_“—LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN’T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED—“_

Harry had been wondering when his name was going to crop up. He tried very hard to look as though he couldn’t hear the voice that was making his eardrums throb.

_“—I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED—YOU’RE FATHER IS FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, AND IT’S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT—IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE, WE’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME!!”_

A ringing silence fell. The red envelope, which had dropped from Ron’s hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed _Voyages with Vampires_ and looked down at the top of Ron’s head.

“Well, I don’t know what you expected, Ron, but you—“

“Don’t tell me I deserved it,” snapped Ron.

“Fine,” Hermione said, turning her nose up as she took a drink from her pumpkin juice.

Thankfully enough nobody had time to dwell upon the Howler much longer; Professor McGonagall was moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out course schedules. Alphonse and Ginny received theirs and read that they had Potions with Slytherin first, and then Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Hufflepuffs.

“Oooooh, you guys get to meet Professor Lockhart today!” Hermione exclaimed. “ _Do_ tell me how he is—I imagine he’ll be brilliant, based upon what I’ve read in his books so far.”

 _I’m not so sure_ , Alphonse said, but nonetheless nodded in agreement, following them all out of the Great Hall.

“Well, I guess we’ll see you at lunch, Alphonse,” Harry said, waving as he followed Ron and Hermione out of the castle, heading out to the greenhouses for Herbology.

“Ok, to potions we go,” Al said to Ginny. He took a step to the right just as the young Weasley said—

“Hold it.”

Al looked over at her in confusion. She looked up from her schedule and pointed to her left:

“The dungeons are that way.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Professor Snape scared Alphonse.

Just the way he looked at everyone was threatening enough, before he began to speak in his dark monotone voice. More and more Al was discovering why Ed told him to be wary of this particular professor.

“There will be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to enjoy the subtle science and exact art that is potion making. However, for those select few, who possess the predisposition, I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even put a stopper…”

Snape clearly stopped and stared at Alphonse as he uttered the final two words in his dark speech:

“…in death.”

He walked over to where the young Elric nervously sat next to an even more nervous Ginny and spoke, not breaking eye-contact with Al throughout:

“Then again, there are those of us who think they already have what it takes to reverse the irreversible.”

Al just stared straight forward as Snape walked away, trying his best to ignore the stares and whispers brought upon him by Snape’s actions.

The small moment of normalcy Alphonse had experienced in the morning of his first day of school was gone as soon as it had arrived.

“Don’t listen to him, Alphonse,” Ginny said as they walked up the stairs toward their next class. “He bullies everyone that’s not in his house.”

“I don’t think that was it, though,” Al said, frowning inwardly. “I mean, Ed told me about what he did to him last year. I think Professor Snape hates me because of Ed.”

“Well, that’s not fair!” Ginny said in outrage. “If that’s the case, you’ve got to stick up for yourself next time.”

“Right,” Al said, nodding in agreement. “You’re right, I will, because I am not my brother. I don’t deserve to take the blame for Ed’s foolishness last year!”

They had finally reached Lockhart’s classroom. The two of them headed toward two empty seats near the front, extracting all of their books for the class out of their knapsacks like everyone else had. Al could not help but notice Ginny giggling from behind her stack of books, however, and facepalmed.

“Aw man, not you too!”

“What?” the redhead inquired. Alphonse did not have time to answer, however, as Lockhart approached her desk and picked up her copy of _Travels with Trolls_ , and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

“Me,” he said, pointing at it and winking as well. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of _Witch Weekly’s_ Most Charming-Smile award—“

Here he demonstrated to the class said ‘winning’ smile.

“—but I don’t talk about that. I didn’t get rid of the Bandon Banshee by _smiling_ at her!”

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

“I see you’ve all bought a complete set of my books—well done. I thought we’d start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about—just to check how well you’ve read them, how much you’ve taken in—“

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, “You have thirty minutes—start— _now_!”

Alphonse looked down at his paper and read:

 

  1. _1._ _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_
  2. _2._ _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_
  3. _3._ _What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?_



 

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

_54.  What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

 

 _This is ridiculous,_ Alphonse thought as he struggled to complete question after stupid question. _What does any of this have to do with the Dark Arts?_

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

“Tut, tut—hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year with the Yeti_. And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully—I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples—though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky!”

He gave them another roguish wink. Alphonse had to fight himself not to slam his helmet down upon the table in front of him. He could only imagine what his brother would be saying at that very moment about the clueless professor’s ego problem…

He was relieved when the bell rang another half hour later, though Ginny seemed to be dragging her feet slightly in order to get one last good look at Lockhart.

“Wait up, Alphonse!”

“You’re the one that was taking too long!”

“Can you believe him?” she said when she finally caught up with the walking suit of armor.

“I don’t think he knows a thing about the Dark Arts, personally,” Al remarked, to which Ginny raised an eyebrow.

“ _I_ was talking about his face…”

Alphonse rolled his eyes: “You _would_!”

“Well, can you blame me??”

“Yes!”

“Oh, shut it!”

Al cracked up at Ginny’s light blush; he had already managed to put his awful Potions experience at the back of his mind thanks to her and Lockhart’s antics.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

The next few days were rather positive for Alphonse. He spent most of his time in class with Ginny and another Gryffindor first-year by the name of Colin Creevey, who had a distinct habit of randomly snapping pictures of the armored boy. Outside of class, however, he spent all his time with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were always more than happy to see him. Unfortunately, though, whenever he was around them, Ginny never seemed to want to join him. Harry and Ron figured that was because she had such a major crush on Harry and did not want to embarrass herself, but Alphonse was not so sure.

He picked up on wandwork far more quickly than his older brother had, however, which made his day Tuesday at Charms and Thursday at Transfiguration. McGonagall beamed at him as when he managed to turn his toothpick into a needle at his first try, a feat that none of the other Gryffindor first years were able to do.

Early Friday morning, when everyone else in his dormitory was asleep, Al heard a small commotion occur from outside his door.

“ _…_ the crack of dawn…” he heard Harry speaking groggily.

“Exactly,” another voice said in reply. “It’s part of our new training program. Come on, grab your broom, and let’s go,” he spoke heartily. “None of the other teams have started training yet; we’re going to be first off the mark this year—“

 _Teams_ , Alphonse thought. _He must be talking about the Gryffindor Quidditch team._

“Meet you on the field in fifteen minutes,” the other guy said before walking away. Alphonse peered outside of his dormitory door in time to see Harry reluctantly dragging himself out of his own dorm.

“Quidditch practice this early in the morning?” Al inquired.

“Apparently,” Harry said groggily. He motioned for Al to follow. “You can come watch if you’d like. Ron and Hermione’ll probably join you later when they wake up, I left them a note.”

“Ok,” Al said, eager for something to do other than re-read his schoolbooks.

Upon arriving at the field, Alphonse found a seat in the stands as Harry went out to the Gryffindor changing room. Just as he sat down, Colin Creevey bounded over and sat next to the armored boy.

“All right, Alphonse?” he said cheerfully.

“Morning,” Al said, trying to be as friendly as possible as Colin snapped a picture of him.

The sun was beginning to rise over the stands, and just as Alphonse’s will to get up and leave Colin’s slightly pestering presence, Ron and Hermione climbed up and sat down next to him.

“Morning,” Hermione said. “Where’s Harry.”

“Good question,” Al said. “They haven’t even left the changing room yet.”

“Seriously?” Ron said, to which Al nodded. Ron looked over at Hermione:

“I suppose Wood wants to teach them some new stuff, especially after the beating at the end of the year last year.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Hermione said. “And don’t you remind Harry, either, he felt so bad…”

Finally, the team hit the field, but before they could take off and begin to work on the new tactics their captain had made-up for them…

“…Oy! Where do you think you’re going, Flint?” Wood shouted at the sight of the Slytherin team captain approaching them. “I booked the field for today; you can clear off now!”

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of trollish cunning on his face as he replied, “Plenty of room for all of us, Wood.”

“Uh-oh,” Ron said at the sight of the Slytherin team. “I smell trouble.”

“We’d better go down there,” Hermione said, to which Al nodded and scurried after the two second-years.

“But I booked the field!” said Wood, positively spitting with rage. “I booked it!”

“Easy, Wood,” Flint said boredly, thrusting a piece of parchment into the enraged Gryffindor’s hands. “I’ve got a note.”

“… _’I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker_.’ You’ve got a new Seeker? Who?”

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face.

“Malfoy?” Harry said.

“That’s right. And that’s not all that’s new this year.”

All seven of the Slytherins held out their broomsticks.

“Those are Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones!” Ron exclaimed, gaping at the shiny new broomsticks. “How did you get those?”

“A gift from Draco’s father,” Flint said haughtily.

“You see, Weasley,” Draco said matter-of-factly. “Unlike some, _my_ father can afford the best.”

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in,” Hermione piped up equally as matter-of-factly. “ _They_ got in on pure _talent_.”

The smug look on Malfoy’s face flickered.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat.

Alphonse and Harry knew at once that Malfoy had said something really bad because there was an instant uproar at his words. Flint had to dive in front of Malfoy to stop Fred and George jumping on him, a girl from the Gryffindor team shrieked, “ _How dare you!”_ , and Ron plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wand, yelling, “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy!” and pointed it furiously under Flint’s arm at Malfoy’s face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of the wrong end of Ron’s wand, hitting him in the stomach and sending him reeling backward onto the grass.

“Ron! Ron! Are you all right?” squealed Hermione.

Harry and Al ran up to Ron as he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead he gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto his lap.

The Slytherin team was paralyzed with laughter. Flint was doubled up, handing onto his new broomstick for support. Malfoy was on all fours, banging the ground with his fist. The Gryffindors were gathered around Ron, who kept belching large, glistening slugs. Nobody seemed to want to touch him.

“What should we do?” Al asked Harry and Hermione.

“We’d better get him to Hagrid’s, it’s nearest,” said Harry to Hermione, who nodded bravely, standing back to let Alphonse help Harry pull Ron up by the arms.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me—come in, some in—thought you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again—“

Harry and Al supported Ron over the threshold into the one-roomed cabin, which had an enormous bed in one corner, a fire crackling merrily in the other. Hagrid didn’t seem perturbed by Ron’s slug problem, which Harry hastily explained as he lowered Ron into a chair.

“Better out than in,” he said cheerfully, plunking a large copper basin in front of the vomiting redhead. “Get ‘em all up, Ron.”

“I don’t think there’s anything to do except wait for it to stop,” Hermione said anxiously, watching Ron bend over the basin.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Al agreed, scratching Fang’s ears. “What did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?”

“Givin’ me advice on getting’ kelpies out of a well,” growled Hagrid, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot in his hands. “Like I don’t know. An’ bangin’ on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it was true, I’ll eat my kettle.”

“Agreed,” Harry and Al said in unison. Hermione, however, said in a voice somewhat higher than usual, “I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job—“

“He was the _only_ man for the job,” said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle fudge, while Ron coughed squelchingly into his basin. “An’ I mean the _on’y_ one. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ ter think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now. So tell me,” said Hagrid, jerking his head at Ron. “Who was he tryin’ ter curse?”

“Malfoy called Hermione something,” Alphonse explained. “It must’ve been really bad, because everyone went wild.”

“It _was_ bad,” said Ron hoarsely, emerging over the tabletop looking pale and sweaty. “Malfoy called her ‘Mudblood,’ Hagrid—“

Ron dove out of sight again as a fresh wave of slugs made their appearance. Hagrid looked outraged.

“He didn’!” he growled at Hermione.

“He did,” she said. “But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course—“

“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” gasped Ron, coming back up. “Mudblood’s a really foul name for someone who is Muggle-born—you know, non-magic parents. There are some wizards—like Malfoy’s family—who think they’re better than everyone else because they’re what people call pure-blood.”

He gave a small burp, and a single slug fell into his outstretched hand. He threw it into the basin and continued:

“I mean, the rest of us know it doesn’t make any difference at all. Look at Neville Longbottom—he’s pure-blood and he can hardly stand a cauldron the right way up.”

“An’ they haven’t invented a spell out Hermione can’ do,” said Hagrid proudly, making Hermione go a brilliant shade of magenta.

“Well, I don’t blame yeh fer tryin’ ter curse him, Ron,” said Hagrid loudly over the thuds of more slugs hitting the basin. “Bu’ maybe it was a good thing yer wand backfired. ‘Spect Lucius Malfoy would’ve come marchin’ up ter school if yeh’d cursed his son. Least yer not in trouble.”

Hagrid turned toward Harry suddenly:

“Gotta bone ter pick with _yeh_. I’ve heard you’ve bin givin’ out signed photos. How come I haven’t got one?”

Al laughed as Harry wrenched his teeth—which were stuck together with treacle tart—apart and spoke hotly:

“I have _not_ been giving out signed photos! If Lockhart’s still spreading that around—“

But then he saw that Hagrid was laughing.

“I’m on’y jokin’,” he said, patting Harry genially on the back and sending him face first into the table. “I knew yeh hadn’t really. I told Lockhart yeh didn’ need teh. Yer more famous than him without tryin’.”

“Bet he didn’t like that,” said Al as Harry sat up and rubbed his chin.

“Don’ think he did,” said Hagrid, his eyes twinkling. “An’ then I told him I’d never read one o’ his books an’ he decided ter go. Treacle fudge, Ron?” he added as Ron reappeared.

“No thanks,” said Ron weakly. “Better not risk it.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Saturday afternoon seemed to melt away, and in what seemed like no time, it was nearly time for Harry and Ron to serve the detentions they earned for running the Ford Angela into the Whomping Willow. Professor McGonagall had promptly handed them their detention slips the moment they had stepped inside the castle from visiting Hagrid. Ron was ordered to polishing the silver in the trophy room with Filch— _“And no magic, Weasley. Elbow grease.”_ —whilst Harry was stuck helping his favorite Dark Arts professor answer his fan mail.

Hermione and Alphonse, on the other hand, decided to use the time that Harry and Ron would be out to go up to the library and do some research on alchemy.

“What was the first thing you ever transmuted, Alphonse?” Hermione inquired randomly at one point during the night, looking up from her copy of _Basics of Alchemy, Vol. II_. Alphonse thought back for a moment.

“…I guess it was the floorboards of my house. I was trying to copy my brother’s first transmutation—he made a little wooden statue of a bird from the wood—but mine didn’t come out as good. Ed is the natural, after all, not me.”

“Could you show me the circle you used?” Hermione immediately inquired. “I want to see if it’s the same one used in this book.”

“Uh, sure,” Al said, taking a piece of parchment out from his bag and sketching a quick diagram of his first transmutation circle for Hermione to see. She smiled and placed the book in her hands next to the drawing Al did; the circles were identical to each other.

“Cool! That must be really similar to the book Ed and I learned from.”

“I wish I could try this out for myself,” Hermione said, tapping on her chin. “After all, alchemy truly is absolutely _fascinating_.”

“Here,” Al said, handing her a piece of chalk. She raised an eyebrow at him, to which he shrugged.

“I’ve gotten into the habit of carrying some around with me, at least until I learn how to transmute like brother, without the circles. Have at it.”

“Alright,” Hermione said giddily, taking the chalk and book as she kneeled on the cold stone ground, carefully copying the circle. When it was completed, she took a deep breath, clasped her hands together, and placed them purposely upon the cold floor of the library.

Nothing happened.

She stood back up, frowning slightly as she looked back at her book.

“I must have done something incorrectly…ah well, practice makes perfect, right?”

“Right,” Al said. He held up his hands in refusal when she tried to give him back his chalk, saying as he did:

“Keep it, I’ve got more. You can use it to practice more—and be sure to show me when you do transmute something, alright?”

“Alright; thanks, Alphonse, you’re so sweet!” Hermione said, smiling happily at him.

A clock tolled from somewhere behind them; it was getting late.

“We’d better head back before we get in trouble for being out too late,” Hermione said concernedly, to which Al nodded in agreement.

“Plus Harry and Ron will be back from their detentions soon,” he said as they exited the library.

The long hallways of the castle were empty and silent as the two of them made their way back to the Gryffindor common room. Even the usually talkative pictures on the walls were unusually still, the candles burning lower and lower, making the light dance across their walkway. In the darkness of the night, Al could not help but think of the castle as a haunted place, full of curses and…and…

… _Come…_

…and voices?

_…come to me…_

Alphonse stopped abruptly, much to Hermione’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Listen…”

… _Let me rip you…Let me tear you…_

“…Don’t you hear it?”

“Hear what, Alphonse?”

_…Let me kill you…_

“Alphonse, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?” Hermione demanded in a shaky voice, looking around her. But Alphonse was not paying attention to her; he was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now. He shook his head.

“Never mind; I must be imagining things, I guess.”

“…You sure you’re ok?” Hermione asked concernedly, wishing the boy had facial expressions so she could read his mind better.

“Yep. Let’s get back to the common room, alright?”

But for the rest of the journey upstairs and to Gryffindor House’s place of dwelling, Alphonse was silent as stone, listening carefully for the voice of breathtaking, ice-cold venom to speak up again, for he knew for a fact that he had _not_ imagined it.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

 


	7. Bloody Deathdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is Halloween, and blood is split...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Six: Bloody Deathdays~

 

 

_Dear Brother,_

_I’m really sorry that I haven’t been writing to you lately; my classes have just been so busy, and a lot has been going on outside of them, too. So far everything you have said about Hogwarts is true, especially the part where you said I would love it. I do love it here, but I still wish you were here with me._

_I’m doing really well in all of my classes; another thing you were right about was the fact that since I’ve had a more open mind to magical stuff than you helped me get the hang of wandwork faster. My best classes are Charms and Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall seems like she’s really impressed with my work; I think she’s my favorite teacher so far. She’s always talking about you, too, brother, about how you were such a good student and that it’s a shame that you’re not continuing on with you education…I think she misses you, Ed. We all do, Harry, Ron and Hermione._

_You should see Professor Lockhart teach; though I’m just a first year, I can even tell that he has no idea what he’s doing or what he’s talking about at all. It’s so pointless, sitting down in his class, listening to him talk about nothing but his books (and I think you’re right, brother, I think they’re fake...). He even reenacts them sometimes. And he has been bothering Harry like crazy for the past few weeks, warning him about “the dangers of stardom,” or something like that. That’s actually pretty funny to watch, but poor Harry gets so embarrassed, haha!_

_You should have seen me trying to get on a broom for my first flying lesson; you would’ve died laughing. It was so embarrassing! After that, I asked Madam Hooch to write me out something excusing me from the class for the rest of the year. You should have seen the look on Professor McGonagall’s face when she read it. She looked at me and said, “I would’ve thought they’d take you out of this class the moment you walked into Hogwarts. What were they thinking?” That cheered me up a lot, that and going to all of Harry’s Quidditch games. They really are more fun to watch than to play, and Harry’s a really good Seeker!_

_Hope everything has been going well for you in the military, and that you’ve been taking care of yourself (and your automail, ‘cause you know Winry would kill you if anything happened to it again...). What have you been doing in terms of work and service? And have you found out anything about the Philosopher’s stone—well, a Philosopher’s stone, since the only real one was destroyed last year. Discovered anything about any of the copies yet? I’ve been looking around the library in my free time, but not too much though. I figured you’ve already read every book on alchemy in that entire room anyway, but also, I’ve been teaching Hermione a little bit of simple alchemy in my free time as well. She hasn’t successfully transmuted anything yet, but she’s learning all of the rules and techniques really quickly! I’m excited to see how good she’ll be; she could be another you. Watch out, brother!_

_…Ok, there’s something I need to talk to you about, Ed. I haven’t told anyone about this, but I know I’ll need to if it keeps happening. A few weeks ago, when Hermione and I were walking back to the Gryffindor common room from the library, I heard something spooky in the hallway. It was a soft, hiss-like voice, and it was saying things like “let me rip you…let me kill you!” I looked all around the hallway but I swear there was no one else there but Hermione and I, and I could tell that Hermione couldn’t hear it, because when I asked her if she had heard anything she gave me a weird look. I swear I wasn’t hearing things, Ed; the voice was really there. And it scared me BIG TIME. I don’t know what to think of it or who to talk to about it…or even if I should talk to someone. What if they think I’m crazy? And I don’t want to go to Professor Dumbledore about it yet, either. So that’s why I’m telling you and no one else…What do you think I should do, brother?_

_I hope this letter gets to you alright, and that you’ll be able to write back soon._

_I miss you,_

_Al_

Alphonse nodded in approval as he finished re-reading his letter to Edward for the second time and slipped it into a parchment envelope. It was still dark in the owlery that morning, just before the dawn broke through the cloudy sky, and Nova was wide awake, eager to receive her master’s task he has for her. Al looked down at her, smiling internally as he picked up his wand from within his backpack on the ground next to him. With the magical item gripped in one hand, he gently stroked Nova’s feathery head with the other, feeling the softness of the owl’s coat. Nova closed her eyes for a moment, relaxing under Al’s gentle touch…and then pecked him hard on the hand.

“Ouch!” Al yelped, dropping his wand. He looked accusingly at Nova.

“I actually felt that, y’know!” he chastised the bird, to which she hooted simply. _Just give me the letter and nobody gets hurt,_ she said with a slight cock of her head. Alphonse chuckled at her expression and relinquished the envelope to her, knowing well just how much she has also missed the elder Elric.

“Do me a favor and peck brother for me, ok?” he said jokingly. Judging by the expression on Nova’s face, however, he felt like she understood every word. After one last hoot, she took off into the early morning air, and Al watched her wings expand above the great grounds of Hogwarts.

October had arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. For once in his life, Alphonse was actually grateful that he did not have a real body, for it seemed like everyone in the school was coming down with something. Madam Pomfrey had been kept busy for the past few days by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy and Al.

“But I don’t want to, that stuff’s _vile_!” she said indigently, to which Percy simply crossed his arms.

“You’re sick as a dog, Ginny! Don’t you _want_ to feel better?”

“I’ll get better by myself, thank you,” she said, glaring at him. Alphonse, who had been awkwardly witnessing the entire scene roll out before him took one look at Percy and said:

“Ginny, let me take you to the Hospital Wing, ok?”

“You’re siding with _him_?”

Alphonse shrugged innocently. “It _is_ for your own good…”

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days at end; this was the first day in a while that not a single drop of liquid fell from the sky, much to Alphonse’s relief. He could not be out in the rain for too long due to the fact that he was paranoid about his blood seal. _What would happen to me if it got washed away??_ he thought the first day he was caught in the rain, which was enough to send him sprinting back into the castle, leaving a very confused Harry, Ron and Hermione in the dust.

As he walked through the front doors of the castle, Al ran into a very tired-looking Harry.

“Morning, Al,” the bespectacled boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Morning,” Al replied, eyeing his red and gold robes. “Quidditch practice?”

Harry nodded sleepily.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to Wood’s new schedule…”

“I don’t blame you,” Al said.

“What are you up to?”

“I was sending a letter to Ed,” Al said, to which Harry smiled slightly.

“Is it weird, being here without him?” Harry asked quietly, to which Al nodded.

“I was expecting us to both be here this year, so yeah, it is.”

“But he’s doing this to help you, isn’t he?” Harry asked, leaning against the wall tiredly.

“Yeah…but I still miss him.”

Harry blinked and looked down, puffing a piece of hair out of his eye.

“Yeah, me too,” Harry admitted. “Last year was so different, with him here. Even though he was keeping secrets from us all year, he was still an amazing friend…not to mention, he practically saved my life at the end of the year, too.”

Al looked at Harry, wondering over the tone of his voice. _He and Ed really were close, weren’t they…_

“…Can I sit and watch practice this morning?”

“Be my guest,” Harry said, brightening up a bit at the thought of having a supportive friend with him. Al followed him back out of the castle and towards the Quidditch fields, looking up at the horizon line where the sun was finally beginning to rise into the sky.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“A deathday party?” Alphonse repeated warily later that day. Harry nodded:

“Yep. For Nearly Headless Nick.”

“I bet there aren’t many living people who can say they’ve been to one of those—it’ll be fascinating!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly.

“Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?” said Ron, who was halfway through his Potions homework and grumpy. “Sounds dead depressing to me…”

Rain had once more begun to lash the windows, which were now inky black, but inside all looked bright and cheerful. The firelight glowed over the countless squashy armchairs where Gryffindors were sitting, reading, talking, doing homework or, in the case of Fred and George, trying to find out what would happen if you fed a Filibuster firework to a salamander. Harry was at the point of telling Ron, Al and Hermione about Filch and the Kwikspell course when the salamander suddenly whizzed into the air, emitting loud sparks and bangs as it whirled wildly round the room. The sight of Percy bellowing himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars showering from the salamander’s mouth, and its escape into the fire, with accompanying explosions, drove both Filch and the Kwikspell envelope from Harry’s mind.

By the time Halloween arrived, Harry was regretting his rash promise to go to the deathday party. The rest of the school was happily anticipating their Halloween feast; the Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid’s vast pumpkins (which had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in), and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

“A promise is a promise,” Hermione reminded Harry bossily. “You _said_ you’d go to the deathday party.”

“Ok, ok,” Harry agreed, knowing that, as usual, she was right. He then turned to Alphonse:

“But I don’t think you should miss your first Halloween feast at Hogwarts, though; maybe you should stay and hang out with Ginny.”

Al replied with a shrug.

“It doesn’t matter much to me; I can’t have any of the feast anyway.”

So at seven o’clock, Harry, Al, Ron and Hermione walked straight past the doorway to the packed Great Hall, which was glittering invitingly with gold plates and candles, and directed their steps instead toward the dungeons.

The passageway leading to Nearly Headless Nick’s party had been lined with candles, too, though the effect was far from cheerful: These were long, thin, jet-black tapers, all burning bright blue, casting a dim, ghostly light even over their own living faces. Alphonse immediately felt nervous upon entering such an atmosphere, for it distinctly reminded him of the other night when he and Hermione were walking back from the library and he heard that eerie, deadly voice speak to him from inside the walls. He shuddered internally, hoping greatly that he would not encounter the voice again tonight.

As they approached the party, all four of them heard what sounded like a thousand fingernails scraping an enormous blackboard.

“Yikes; what _is_ that?” Alphonse remarked quietly, holding his gloved hands against his helmet as if making an effort to cover his ears.

“Is that supposed to be _music_?” Ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

“My dear friends,” he said mournfully. “Welcome, welcome…so pleased you could come…”

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

“This is even creepier than I thought it would be,” Ron hissed to Al, who nodded.

“Agreed.”

“Shall we have a look around?” Harry suggested, wanting to warm up his feet.

“Careful not to walk through anyone,” said Ron nervously, and they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. Alphonse had to be mindful of whether or not he was accidentally staring at someone.

“Hermione?”

Hermione immediately turned her bushy-haired head to look up at Alphonse.

“Yes?”

“Do you know how someone would become a ghost?” he asked warily, being careful to keep his voice down in order to not offend anyone. Hermione thought for a moment, then opened her mouth to answer Al’s question:

“Well, you see, when—oh no,” she hissed, stopping her explanation abruptly. “Guys, turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle—“

“Who?” Harry and Al asked as they backtracked quickly.

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the first floor,” said Hermione.

“She haunts a _toilet_?” Harry said in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never want in there anyway if I could avoid it; it’s awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you—“

“Look, food!” said Ron.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. They approached it eagerly but next moment had stopped in their tracks, horrified.

“For once, I’m really glad I can’t smell,” Al said as the four of them looked down upon a smorgasbord of rotten food. They all watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

“Can you taste it if you walk through it?” Alphonse asked him curiously.

“Almost,” said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

“I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,” said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

“Can we move? I feel sick,” said Ron.

They had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to halt in midair before them.

“Hello, Peeves,” said Harry cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

“Nibble?” he said sweetly, offering them a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

“No thanks,” said Hermione.

“Ah, you’re Alphonse Elric, aren’t you?” Peeves said, suddenly turning toward Al. “I’ve yet to meet you yet; tell me, do you have the same potty mouth your brother did?”

“Uh, no,” Al said, confused over the sudden confrontation by the poltergeist.

“Oh, and I heard you all talking about poor Myrtle,” Peeves continued, his eyes dancing. “ _Rude_ you was about poor Myrtle.” He took a deep breath and bellowed, “OY! MYRTLE!”

“Oh, no, Peeves, don’t tell her what I said, she’ll be really upset,” Hermione whispered frantically. “I didn’t mean it, I don’t mind her—er, hello, Myrtle.”

The squat ghost of a girl had glided over. She had the glummest face Al had ever seen, half-hidden behind lank hair and thick, pearly spectacles.

“What?” she said sulkily.

“How are you, Myrtle?” said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. “It’s nice to see you out of the toilet.”

Myrtle sniffed.

“Miss Granger was just talking about you—“ said Peeves slyly in Myrtle’s ear.

“Just saying—saying—how nice you look tonight,” said Hermione, glaring at Peeves. Alphonse saw fit to take a step back behind his friends, for if he knew anything about girls, this conversation was about to take a turn for the worse. _At least neither of them have a wrench on them_ , he thought with slight relief.

Myrtle was now eyeing Hermione suspiciously.

“You’re making fun of me,” she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

“No—honestly—didn’t I just say how nice Myrtle’s looking?” said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs. She stopped herself from hitting Alphonse, however, looking back upon his metal body as she thought over who would bear the brunt of the force in that assault.

“Oh yeah—“

“She did—“

“You really do—“

“Don’t lie to me,” Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. “D’you think I don’t know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!”

“You’ve forgotten pimply,” Peeves hissed in her ear.

Moaning Myrtle burst into anguished sobs and fled from the dungeon. Peeves shot after her pelting her with moldy peanuts, yelling, _“Pimply! Pimply!”_

“Oh dear,” said Hermione sadly.

“Is he always that mean to people?” Alphonse asked, to which all three of his friends nodded.

“Why do you think Ed was constantly going off on him last year?” Ron said, to which Al shook his head.

“For once I don’t think I can blame him for that…”

Nearly Headless Nick now drifted toward them through the crowd.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“Oh, yes,” they all four lied in unison.

“Not a bad turnout,” said Nearly Headless Nick proudly.

The orchestra, however, stopped playing at that very moment. They, and everyone else in the dungeon, fell silent, looking around in excitement, as a hunting horn sounded.

“Oh, here we go,” said Nearly Headless Nick bitterly.

Through the dungeon wall burst a dozen ghost horses, each ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly clapped wildly at their entrance.

At the front of the pack was a large ghost who held his bearded head under his arm, from which position he was blowing the horn. The ghost leapt down, lifted his head high in the air so he could see over the crowd (everyone laughed), and strode over to Nearly Headless Nick, squashing his head back onto his neck.

“Nick!” he roared. “How are you? Head still hanging in there?”

He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.

“Welcome, Patrick,” said Nick stiffly.

“Live ‘uns!” said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Al, Ron and Hermione and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again (the crowd howled with laughter).

“Very amusing,” said Nearly Headless Nick darkly.

“Don’t mind, Nick!” shouted Sir Patrick’s head from the floor. “Still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say—look at the fellow—“

“I think,” said Harry hurriedly, at a meaningful look from Nick, “Nick’s very—frightening and—er—“

“Ha!” yelled Sir Patrick’s head. “Bet he asked you to say that!”

“If I could have everyone’s attention, it’s time for my speech!” said Nearly Headless Nick loudly, striding toward the podium and climbing into an icy blue spotlight.

“My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen; it is my great sorrow…”

But nobody heard much more because of Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt’s antics.

“I can’t stand much more of this,” Ron muttered, his teeth chattering, as the orchestra ground back into action and the ghosts swept back onto the dance floor.

“Let’s go,” Harry agreed.

They backed toward the door, nodding and beaming at anyone who looked at them, and a minute later were hurrying back up the passageway full of black candles.

“Pudding might not be finished yet,” said Ron hopefully, leading the way toward the steps to the entrance hall.

Suddenly, Al stopped in his tracks, the glowing orbs inside of his helmet widening in fright. Hermione also paused, looking up at him with concern.

“What is it Alphonse?”

And then Harry heard it.

“… _rip…tear…kill…”_

It was the same voice, the same cold, murderous voice he had heard in Lockhart’s office and that Al had heard walking back from the library. Al now watched as Harry too stumbled to a halt, clutching at the stone wall, listening with all his might, looking around, squinting up and down the dimly lit passageway.

“Harry, what’re you—?”

“You hear it too, don’t you?” Al interrupted Hermione, to which Harry nodded, staring at Alphonse.

“Heard what—?” Ron began but was interrupted by Harry.

“It’s that voice again—shut up a minute—“

“… _soo hungry…for so long…”_

“Listen!” said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching him and Alphonse, who had by now, as quietly as possible, walked down the length of the hallway and was now standing next to Harry, also looking up at the wall.

“… _kill…time to kill…_ ”

“Kill…??” Al spoke in fright.

The voice was growing fainter. Harry was sure it was moving away—moving upward. A mixture of fear and excitement gripped him as he stared at the dark ceiling; how could it be moving upward?

“Where’d it go?” Harry whispered to Al.

“I think it’s coming from inside the walls…”

“This way,” Harry shouted, and he and Al began to run, up the stairs, into the entrance hall. It was no good hoping to hear anything here, though, for the babble of talk from the Halloween feast was echoing out of the Great Hall. Harry and Al sprinted up the marble staircase to the first floor, Ron and Hermione clambering up behind them.

“Harry, Alphonse, what’re we—“

“SHH!” the two boys said in desperate unison as they strained their ears.

Distantly, from the floor above, and growing fainter still, they heard the voice: _“…I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!”_

Harry and Al looked at each other, Harry’s stomach lurching as he shouted:

“It’s going to kill someone!”

Harry and Al continued to hurtle around the whole of the second floor, Ron and Hermione panting behind them, not stopping until they turned a corner into the last, deserted passage.

“ _What_ was that about, you two?” said Ron, wiping sweat off his face. “I couldn’t hear anything…”

But Hermione gave a sudden gasp, pointing down the corridor.

“ _Look!_ ”

Something was shining on the wall ahead. They approached slowly, squinting through the darkness. Foot-high words had been daubed on the wall between two windows, shimmering in the light cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.

ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

“It’s written in blood…” Hermione said faintly, gulping nervously.

“What’s that thing—hanging underneath?” said Ron, a slight quiver in his voice.

As they edged closer, poor Alphonse suddenly slipped and fell with an unholy clamor onto the hard stone floor. Ron, Hermione and Harry all grabbed him and hoisted him up, hastily looking around to see if anyone heard the noise, and then they all inched toward the message. All three of them realized what the dark shadow beneath it was at once, and leapt backward with a splash.

Mrs. Norris, the caretaker’s cat, was hanging by her tail from the torch bracket. She was stiff as a board, her eyes wide and staring.

“Oh no,” Al said with great sadness, to which Ron and Harry stared at him. Alphonse huffed:

“What; I like cats…”

For a few seconds they didn’t move. Then Ron said, “Let’s get out of here.”

“Shouldn’t we try and help—“Harry began awkwardly.

“Trust me,” said Ron. “We don’t want to be found here.”

“Too late,” Al said, to which the other three turned around and were greeted by the sight of loud, happily chatting well-fed people walking up the stairs back to their common rooms after the feast. The chatter, the bustle, and all of the noise died suddenly as the people in front spotted the hanging cat. Harry, Ron, Al and Hermione stood alone, in the middle of the corridor, as silence fell among the mass of students pressing forward to see the grisly sight.

Then someone shouted through the quiet.

“Enemies of the heir beware; you’ll be next, Mudbloods!”

It was Draco Malfoy. He had pushed to the front of the crowd, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging immobile cat.

 _If only Ed were here to punch him right now,_ Harry suddenly found himself thinking.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

They were all in Lockhart’s office, watching intently as Professor Dumbledore examined Mrs. Norris’ body, muttering strange words under his breath and tapping the cat with his wand. Nothing happened as he did this; she continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

“…I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadougou,” said Lockhart, “a series of attacks, the full story’s in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once…”

Harry and Al looked at each other, both obviously equally exasperated by Lockhart’s jabbering.  

At last Dumbledore straightened up.

“She’s not dead, Argus,” he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

“Not dead?” choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. “But why’s she all—all stiff and frozen?”

“She has been Petrified,” said Dumbledore (“Ah! I thought so!” said Lockhart). “But how, I cannot say…”

“Ask _him_!” shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

“No second year could have done this,” said Dumbledore firmly. “It would take Dark Magic of the most advanced—“

“Then ask the Elric boy, he knows Dark Magic!” Filch yelled, taking everyone by surprise.

“ _Me_?” Al said in disbelief. “But—but why would I do something like this?”

“That’s ridiculous, sir,” Hermione defended Alphonse softly. “Alphonse loved Mrs. Norris almost as much as you did.”

Dumbledore also looked up at Al, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

“…I cannot say where you got the idea that Alphonse is involved in Dark Magic from, but I can assure you he did not harm Mrs. Norris,” Dumbledore defended Al. “If you knew him well enough you also would not question his innocence, Argus.”

Snape raised an eyebrow at this comment but remained silent as Filch continued to glare at Harry and Alphonse.

“One of them did it, I know it!”

“I never _touched_ Mrs. Norris!” Harry said loudly, uncomfortably aware of everyone looking at him.

“Rubbish!” snarled Filch.

“If I may speak, Headmaster,” said Snape from the shadows. “Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. “But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?”

Harry, Ron, Alphonse and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. “…there were hundreds of ghosts, they’ll tell you we were there—“

“But why not join the feast afterward?” said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. “Why go up to the corridor?”

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry and Al.

“Because—because—“ Harry said, his heart thumping very fast; something told him it would sound very far-fetched if he told them they had been led there by a bodiless voice no one but he and Al could hear, “because we were tired and wanted to go to bed,” he said.

“Without any supper?” said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. “I didn’t think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties.”

“We weren’t hungry,” said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Snape’s nasty smile widened.

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. Alphonse nervously looked down at his metal feet, wondering if he should say something else but not having the slightest idea of what to say.

“Innocent until proven guilty, Severus,” Dumbledore said firmly.

Snape looked furious. So did Filch.

“My cat has been Petrified!” he shrieked, his eyes popping. “I want to see some _punishment_!”

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” said Dumbledore patiently. Alphonse had to hand it to him, for being bombarded by so many demands and tiresome yelling all in one sitting; Dumbledore was exceptionally calm and still level-headed as ever.

“You may go,” he finally said to Harry, Al, Ron and Hermione, and they went as quickly as they could without actually running.

When they were a floor up from Lockhart’s office, they turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind them. Harry squinted at his friends’ darkened faces, focusing directly at Al.

“D’you think we should have told them about the voice we heard?” he asked the young alchemist.

“…I have no idea,” Al said in honest reply.

“No,” said Ron, without hesitation. “Hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, guys, even in the Wizarding world.”

Something in Ron’s voice made Harry ask, “You do believe me, don’t you?”

“’Course I do, both of you,” Ron said quickly. “But—you must admit it’s weird…”

“That’s what you were hearing the other night, wasn’t it Al?” Hermione piped up. “When you freaked out suddenly on the way back from the library?”

“Yeah, I had heard it then, too.”

“So you’ve heard it before now?” Harry said. “Because I did, too, on the way back from my detention with Lockhart.”

“I wonder why only the two of you can hear it, though,” Hermione said concernedly. “How strange…”

“I know it’s weird,” said Harry. “The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about? _The Chamber Has Been Opened…._ What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know, it sort of rings a bell,” said Ron slowly. “I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once…might’ve been Bill…”

A clock chimed somewhere.

“Midnight,” said Harry. “We’d better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Edward slumped into his seat on the train, which was rumbling deep below him as it was preparing to leave its station. Much to his annoyance, his trip to Lior was far less fruitful than he had expected—or rather—hoped for. Not only had he not found a proper Philosopher’s stone, but he also had to go through the trouble of dispatching a crazy, heretical leader from his tyrannical reign over the city. Which was not something he had really wanted much to do with...Not only that, but now he was going to have a lot of explaining to do to Professor Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic, a task that he had yet to mentally prepare for.

After all, of course it could not have been enough for Edward to be discovered as a wizard by everyone in Mustang’s office back at Central HQ, but he just had to be found out by the crazy bald man with an awful God complex back at Lior, too. His head hurt just thinking about both occurrences…

_“…Is this some kind of joke?” Ed could hear Breda remark._

_“Nah,” he heard Havoc reply in a slightly uncertain voice. “I don’t think that talking envelope was made by alchemy…”_

_“Care to explain yourself, Fullmetal?” Mustang growled suddenly, tired of overhearing his subordinate’s nervous whispering. Edward blinked and looked up from the letter in his hand._

_“I think this did most of my explaining for me,” the short State Alchemist said simply. “Not much more to know other than what I’ve just said.”_

_“But…you’re joking, right?” Fuery asked nervously. Edward shook his head._

_“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but if I tell you all everything, do you swear not to tell anyone else outside of this room?”_

And that’s how Colonel Mustang’s entire department found out about Hogwarts. As for Father Cornello from Lior, however…well, there was a bit of a shock for both parties in that discovery…

_“I’m so sorry, Edward,” Rose said, her head bowed as she made a move to walk over by where Cornello stood before them. “But this is…the only choice I can make.”_

_Edward watched as Cornello’s face broke into an evil smile._

_“You truly are a good child…”_

_Ed rolled his eyes, and then quickly focused as Cornello looked down upon him once more._

_“Well, then…now we must eradicate this heathen that threatens the future of our faith.”_

_Suddenly, a large metal door at the side of the huge room slowly creaked open, and what emerged slightly startled Edward. Two glowing eyes met up with a huge body of a creature, half lion and half serpent, which stared ravenously into Edward’s widened eyes, extracting its claws menacingly._

_“This Philosopher’s stone is truly incredible. It can even create new life…like this. Have you ever seen a chimera?”_

_Ed did not listen as he sized up the creature before him._

_“Hmm…” he spoke aloud. “Looks like this one might be tough to play with empty handed. So…”_

_He promptly clapped his hands together and pressed them to the floor, transmuting the stone into a spear with which he could use to fight the chimera._

_“Ergh…!” the heretic priest cried out in shock. “You made a weapon from the floor without using a transmutation circle?! So you deserve the title of state alchemist after all!”_

_Ed smirked, then erased the look off of his face._ Why am I suddenly being reminded of Draco Malfoy at a time like this??

_“But that still won’t be enough!!”_

_His brief memory of Hogwarts forgotten, Ed rapidly snapped out of his stupor just in time to see the giant chimera lunge toward him. He held up his spear in defense, and then his eyes widened as the creature’s claws shredded right through the metal weapon and made contact with his pant leg in the process as well. Ed smirked yet again internally, grateful that the chimera struck his left leg and not his right._

_“Oh no…” he said despite his automail’s triumph, trying to fool the bald priest._

_“Wa ha ha ha!” Cornello laughed haughtily as Rose cried out Edward’s name in terror. Cornello ignored her and continued to rant: “How do you like the taste of claws that can cut through iron?”_

_“…psych!” Ed suddenly exclaimed, standing straight up and kicking the chimera in the gut with his metal leg. The Fullmetal Alchemist grinned hugely up at Cornello’s shocked expression._

_“Sorry, these are custom made.”_

_“Wh-What’s the matter!!? If your claws won’t work, then bite him to death!!”_

_Edward watched as the chimera came at him again, and then raised his right arm up to its open mouth, not even so much as flinching as it gnawed on the metal, trying to tear into something it simply could not get its teeth around._

_“What’s the matter, kitty?” Ed said, looking the creature in the eye. “Tastes bad?”_

_This time Edward kicked the thing in the face, effectively knocking it out. Just as he did so, however, he heard a soft sound of a piece of wood hitting the hard ground behind him. He froze for a moment, and then slowly raised his hands to check his coat pockets; they were empty._

Damn!

 _“Is that…a wand?” Ed heard Cornello say unbelievably in front of him. Ed blinked in shock, making a move to block the priest and Rose’s view of his magical instrument._ How does he know about wands…?

_“A wand?” Ed said, shaking his head in feigned disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”_

_Cornello paused for a moment, and then shook his head in his own adamant disbelief. Ed gulped, wondering how Cornello knew it was a wand that fell out of his pocket._

_“Automail,” Cornello spoke darkly. “Full steel prosthetics—‘full metal’ prosthetics.”_

_Edward glared up at him as he grabbed onto his coat and ripped it completely off of his body in one swift, threatening motion. Cornello’s menacing grin returned as he said with mirth:_

_“So that’s why you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist!”_

_Edward opened his mouth to speak, taking a step towards the man, but was interrupted by the priest’s cackling._

_“I wonder, though,” Father Cornello boomed haughtily, “If you’re military knows that you’re a wizard as well??”_

_“Crap,” Ed said, looking back at the ground next to him. By moving towards Cornello, Edward had made his fallen wand visible to the priest and Rose._

_“What??” Rose said in quiet confusion. Ed shot Cornello a look before stooping down to pick up his wand. He then gripped it tightly in his fist and pointed it up to the heretic, shouting as he did:_

_“That only makes me even more of a superior to you. Come down here and face me, you third-rate fraud—I’ll show you there’s no comparison between us!”_

“Ugh,” Edward said, mentally face-palming. Thankfully enough he didn’t have to use his wand, for that would have only put him in an even worse position than he was already in just by letting himself be found out twice. “It’s like that world won’t ever leave me alone,” Ed spoke into the empty train car, slumping in his seat. “No matter what I do…”

And even Father Cornello knew of the Wizarding World. When Ed went back to his office later that day and interrogated him, however, he denied ever knowing a thing, which frustrated Ed even more. At first Ed had considered the fact that the was Cornello was making his ‘miracles’ happen could be by means of him being a wizard, but as he watched him perform he could recall not a single instance in which the man used a wand. And yet the Philosopher’s stone ended up being a fake the entire time.

He slipped a hand into his newly-repaired coat pocket, fingering the dark wand. By now the train was moving at full speed toward Edward’s next destination, a small little coal miner’s town by the name of Youswell. _Why do I even bother carrying this thing around with me if I can’t use it??_ he asked himself for the umpteenth time as he extracted it from within his coat. The answer to that question could have been simple enough; he was so used to carrying it around with him all throughout his time at Hogwarts that it felt weird not to have it with him. But it wasn’t that simple, unfortunately, for just as the Wizarding World itself would never leave him alone, neither would his attachment to his wand. It was as if it was a part of him because it assisted him in performing magic…

And now he was forbidden to use it ever again.

Ed frowned to himself as he shoved it back into his coat, leaning back onto the side of the train car, closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep…

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Ed rubbed his eyes. _How long was I asleep for…?_

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

He looked up at the window and froze for a long moment, and then his face broke out into a huge smile as he hastily opened it up. Nova happily flew into Edward’s lap, hooting in glee and dropping the letter from Alphonse in the process. Ed patted Nova without taking his eyes off of his letter, his bad mood suddenly lightening up immediately. _Finally, he wrote me!_   he thought as he ripped the letter open.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Nobody was paying proper attention to Professor McGonagall the next day in Transfiguration. Alphonse was too distracted by Ginny, who looked like she was about to pass out at any second now. Apparently she was also particularly fond of Mrs. Norris, like Alphonse, but even Al was concerned about how hard she was taking the attack from Halloween night.

But Ginny was not the only thing distracting Alphonse, and eventually he found himself raising his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Elric?” McGonagall called upon him.

“I was wondering, professor,” Al asked, “If you could tell us about the Chamber of Secrets? I tried looking for it in my _Hogwarts, A History_ book, but…I feel like it left some stuff out.”

McGonagall blinked in surprise, looking around at how much more alert her class suddenly was at the mentioning of the Chamber. Eventually she huffed frustratingly.

“If I do, do you all promise to get right back to work like you are supposed to be doing right now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the entire class replied, eager for more knowledge about the inscription on the wall.

“…Very well, then,” she began:

“Well, you all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Now, three of the founders coexisted quite harmoniously. One did not.”

“Slytherin,” a little blonde girl at the front of the class piped up quietly. McGonagall nodded briskly at her.

“Salazar Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed magical learning should be kept within all-magic families—in other words, ‘pure-bloods.’ Unable to sway the others, he decided to leave the school.

“Now, according to legend, Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in this castle, known as the Chamber of Secrets. Though, shortly before departing, he sealed it until that time when his own true heir returned to the school. The heir alone would be able to open the Chamber and unleash the horror within, and by so doing purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin’s view, were unworthy to study magic.”

McGonagall pushed a stray strand of hair back behind her ear as she finished:

“Naturally, the school had been searched many times. No such chamber has been found.”

Alphonse was confused about something else however.

“But in _Hogwarts, A History_ , it never said what the ‘horror within’ the Chamber…was.”

McGonagall nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, the Chamber is said to home to something that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. It is said to be the home of a monster.”

Alphonse felt Ginny flinch beside him (he was still holding his wand) and looked over with concern as she slumped further down into her seat.

“Are you alright?” he asked her, to which she nodded nervously.

“Alright, that’s enough of this story, now,” McGonagall said briskly. “Back to your transfigurations!”

But suddenly, not even Alphonse felt like performing magic, especially if he was right, and what he heard the other night was the monster of the Chamber of Secrets.

“Mr. Elric,” McGonagall called to Al just before he exited the classroom. Al stopped, allowing the stream of first years to walk past him as he approached McGonagall’s desk.

“Yes, Professor?”

“Are you alright?” she immediately demanded. “Ever since Halloween night, you’ve seemed a bit…well, a bit more nervous as usual. Did something happen, Alphonse?”

Alphonse was grateful for his Head of House’s concern, but at the same time it made him nervous, for he couldn’t help but remember Ron’s words from Halloween: _hearing voices no one else can hear isn’t a good sign, guys, even in the Wizarding world_.

“No, ma’am. I’m just as shaken up as everyone else is, I guess…”

Al sighed.

“That and I can’t help but keep thinking about how Filch just outright accused me of Dark Magic,” he also admitted, speaking what has been on his mind almost as much as the voices in the walls were.

McGonagall gave him a sympathetic look.

“Do not think a single thing of it, Mr. Elric; Argus had no idea what he was talking about. We have all made mistakes in our pasts. However, those mistakes do not make one automatically evil.”

She placed a withered hand upon Al’s metallic shoulder; Al could feel the warmth from her touch due to the fact that he still had not stowed his wand yet.

“In the case of you and Edward, your Human Transmutation was far from Dark Magic. You meant nothing evil from it, and you know it. All right?”

Alphonse nodded.

“Thank you, professor. I needed to hear that.”

“I know you did,” McGonagall said briskly, walking purposefully towards the door.

“Now come with me,” she ordered suddenly. Alphonse obeyed, but asked curiously:

“Where are we going?”

“Upstairs,” she replied simply, extracting a letter from within her robes and holding it up as she explained: “Professor Dumbledore asked me to take you up to his office after class. He wishes to speak to you in private.”

A sense of piercing dread suddenly filled Alphonse’s metal encasement. _What could Professor Dumbledore possibly want to speak to me about??_

~~*e.s.*~~


	8. Heirs And Hijackers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the first two words of the chapter are 'lemon drop,' for some reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Seven: Heirs And Hijackers~

 

 

“Lemon drop!”

Alphonse watched in amazement as the extremely large and rather ugly gargoyle they had finally stopped in front of suddenly sprang to life and hopped aside as the wall behind him split in two.  Behind the wall was a spiral staircase that was moving smoothly upward.

“Off you go, Mr. Elric,” McGonagall said briskly.

“Oh. Right,” Al said, shaking his metal head as he stepped gingerly onto moving staircase, looking behind at his now retreating Transfiguration teacher as he rose upward in circles. At last, the young alchemist came to a stop, and he saw before him a gleaming oak door ahead, with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. He stepped off and approached the door; after a moment’s pause for him to attempt to get a grip of himself, he rapped on it twice. It opened silently, and Alphonse entered with trepidation.

“…Hello? Professor Dumbledore?”

“Ah, Alphonse Elric,” a booming version of Dumbledore’s voice spoke from somewhere above Alphonse’s head. The young Elric started in statement, looking around to see where the voice was coming from and not finding the old wizard in question anywhere. Dumbledore laughed.

“If you will be so kind as to pardon me for a moment, I will be done to see to you soon. Do feel free to look around whilst you wait.”

“Uhm…thank you sir?” Al said in polite reply, probably talking a little bit louder than he should have by accident. Dumbledore did not reply this time, so Al went ahead and walked around the room to keep his mind off of his nerves.

It was a large and beautiful circular room, full of funny little noises. A number of curious silver instruments stood on spindle-legged tables, whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke. The walls were covered with portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses, all of whom were chatting softly and idly to one another, completely ignoring Al’s presence in the room. There was also an enormous, claw-footed desk, and, sitting on a shelf behind it was the Sorting Hat. _So this is where they keep it_ , Alphonse thought as he approached it. When he got close enough, it split open and spoke to him in its booming voice.

“Alphonse Elric.”

Al cocked his head at it as he replied in greeting: “Hello.”

“Come to see the headmaster, doubtless.”

“That’s right.”

“Hmm; it’s about time, too…”

Alphonse stared at the old hat. What did it know that he didn’t?

“What do you mean, ‘about time?’ Have I done something wrong?”

The hat raised a cloth eyebrow at him.

“Wouldn’t you know this already?”

“I don’t know…” Al said, and the hat chuckled darkly in reply.

“You will see…all in good time, Alphonse Elric. All in good time.”

And with that the hat became immobile once more, leaving Al standing in front of it, even more nervous about his meeting with Dumbledore than before. The hat obviously knows something Al does not, something of great importance, or else surely it would not have brought it up.

A soft rustling of feathers made him turn around; he calmed down a bit upon the sight of a gorgeous red and orange-feathered bird perched upon a golden perch in the far corner of the room next to Dumbledore’s desk. He walked up to it, watching as it rustled its wings once more, looking at Alphonse curiously.

“I see you’ve met Fawkes,” Dumbledore spoke as he walked up to greet Alphonse. The younger Elric turned and nodded once at his headmaster.

“She’s very pretty, sir.”

“He,” Dumbledore corrected, chuckling slightly. “I assume you’ve never seen a Phoenix before?”

Al shook his head.

“No, but I heard Ollivander say that he uses their feather’s in his wands…actually, I think I have one in my own wand’s core.”

“Yes, Phoenix feathers are extremely powerful things of magic,” Dumbledore said thoughtfully, reaching out a hand to pat Fawkes gently upon the head. “They really are magnificent creatures. On top of having a magical down, they can carry incredibly heavy loads, and their tears have healing powers as well.”

“Wow,” Al said, honestly impressed with the grand bird before him. Dumbledore smiled kindly, moving around and standing in front of his desk next to Al.

“I know you’re wondering why I’ve asked you to come here.”

“Kind of, yes,” Al admitted. Dumbledore nodded once; Al looked carefully at him, trying to get a clue as to how much trouble he might be in by Dumbledore’s expression. The old wizard did not seem angry in the slightest, however; on the other hand, he seemed to be in a rather good mood, which only confused Alphonse more. He watched as the headmaster rummaged through a stack of papers and things on his desk then pull out two envelopes. He opened the first one and read through the contents momentarily, then handed Alphonse the other one.

“Here’s the letter from your brother; the other’s mine for the Ministry—nothing for you to bother with.”

“From _Ed_?”

“Mhmm,” Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “He told me to apologize for taking so long to reply to yours, but he had to use your owl, Nova to send a report to the Ministry of Magic first.”

“Oh, ok,” Al said, slightly confused. “Why’d he have to write to the Ministry?”

“He hasn’t told you yet? Perhaps he will in his letter…I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I informed you myself however. Since alchemy is a form of magic, and according to the Ministry underage wizards are forbidden to use magic outside of Hogwarts, Edward had to get permission from the Ministry to use alchemy for military purposes. They agreed to allow him that, but in return he must report back to them on a monthly basis for precautionary reasons.”

“That makes sense, I suppose,” Al said, surprised at how complicated something as simple as a small transmutation could become a big deal once they have been to school for it. He wondered if because he was a student at Hogwarts as well if that meant he would not be able to use alchemy during the summertime, when he was back in Resembool.

“Is that all, sir?”

Dumbledore cocked his head curiously at Alphonse.

“I suppose it is for now…but I wonder, Mr. Elric, if there’s something you wish to tell me?”

Alphonse shrugged innocently.

“I don’t know; should there be? Have I done something wrong?”

Dumbledore chuckled again and shook his head.

“No, Alphonse. I suppose you thought you were in trouble when McGonagall brought you here, though, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Al admitted, relieved that that was not the case after all. “Well then, I guess I’ll see you around, then, Professor.”

“I guess you will,” Dumbledore replied with a smile. “Have a great rest of your day, Alphonse. Do you know how to get back downstairs to your classes?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure,” Al replied, turning and letting himself out of the headmaster’s office.

 _I wasn’t in trouble! Yes!_ he thought as he put Ed’s letter into his backpack, and then made his way back down the spinning staircase and towards the Gryffindor common room. _And Ed wrote me back…everything went better than expected._

“I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” he could hear a familiar voice speak from the hallway before him. As he approached Al saw he was right about whom he had heard; Ron, along with Harry and Hermione, were also headed back to the common room to drop off their bags before dinner.

“Hi, Alphonse!” Hermione greeted him with a smile as the armored boy joined them.

“Hey, guys,” he said in a cheerful tone of voice. “What class are you all coming from?”

“History of Magic,” Harry said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

“Hey,” Hermione chastised, “It was actually kind of interesting today!”

“Only because we ended up talking about the Chamber of Secrets,” Harry replied.

“You guys did too?” Al interceded. “We did too, in Transfiguration.”

“Oooo, what did McGonagall have to say about it?” Ron asked curiously. Alphonse shrugged and replied:

“Probably not much more than Professor Binns said; she talked about how Slytherin made it to hide a monster that would get rid of the so-called ‘half-bloods’ of Hogwarts and how much she did not believe it actually existed.”

“Yeah, Binns pretty said the same, you’re right…” Ron said disappointedly. “I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn’t be in his house if you paid me.”

“Agreed,” Alphonse said, also disgusted with all of the things he has been hearing about Salazar Slytherin. Ron continued:

“If the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I’d’ve got the train straight back home…”

Hermione nodded fervently, but Al noticed that Harry didn’t say anything. Little did the Elric brother know just how much the scarred boy’s stomach had just dropped unpleasantly. After all, Harry had never told Ron, Alphonse, Hermione or even Edward that the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting _him_ in Slytherin. He could remember, as though it were yesterday, the small voice that had spoken in his ear when he’d placed the hat on his head a year before: _You could be great, you know, it’s all here in your head, and Slytherin would help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that…._

As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevy went past.

“Hiya, Harry!”

“Hullo, Colin,” said Harry automatically.

“Harry—Harry—a boy in my class has been saying you’re—“

But Colin was so small he couldn’t fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, “See you, Harry!” and he was gone.

“What’s a boy in his class saying about you?” Hermione wondered.

“That I’m Slytherin’s heir, I expect,” said Harry sullenly. Al looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s stupid; you’re not even in Slytherin!”

“People here’ll believe anything,” said Ron in disgust. Al nodded once, remembering how Filch had accused him of Dark Magic just the other night.

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty, though Alphonse never had much difficulty maneuvering through crowded hallways since people made it a point to get out of his giant armor’s way whenever they saw it coming. More than once in the beginning of the school year Alphonse accidentally roughly bumped into stepped on a poor student’s toes.

“Do you really think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?” Al asked Hermione.

“I don’t know,” she said, frowning. “Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be—well—human.”

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message “The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Snape was not impressed.

“And who are you two?”

Lust tried her best at an amiable smile as she explained with a voice laced with false politeness:

“I am Madam Yarrow, and this is Master Fenney; we’re from London. I was sent here to hand-deliver a letter to a boy currently going to this school named Alphonse Elric. Is he around? May I see him?”

Snape’s frown deepened as he looked back and forth from Lust to Gluttony (whom Lust had stuffed in a rather tight-fitted waistcoat to match her perfectly-fitted daytime dress and traveling cloak). He could tell that these two people were imposters, and there was no way they were getting anywhere past the gate in which they now stood before.

“You couldn’t have just sent an owl to Mr. Elric?”

Lust blinked, the look on her face obviously showing Snape that she did not think of this.

“Pardon me, but I’m not the one who wrote this letter to Alphonse, and the man who gave it to me told me specifically to hand-deliver it to him. I assure you, it would only take a moment.”

“I will deliver the letter to Mr. Elric,” Snape said, completely ignoring Lust’s statement as he held out his hand. “And I assure _you_ that I will see this letter to him immediately. As for you, next time it would be wise to stay home and simply send an owl to the school rather than having the audacity to approach it in person.”

Lust obviously did not know what to say to try and convince the black-haired, hook-nosed professor to let her and Gluttony into the school. After a moment she too frowned, placing the envelope she held in her hands in Snape’s palm.

“Very well then,” she said stiffly, and then turned around and swiftly began to walk away from the school. “Come, Gluttony,” she called to her obese counterpart, obviously uncaring of either of their fake names anymore now that their plan was foiled. Snape raised an eyebrow at the pair as they retreated, making a note to inform the headmaster about their visit. When he turned away from the gate, he finally got a chance to look down at the envelope addressed to ‘Alphonse Elric.’ He paused slightly, stopping in the middle of the courtyard for a moment, and then curiously opened the envelope, wanting to know exactly what business these strangers had with the younger Elric brother…

There was nothing in the envelope but air.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Alphonse was only half-listening to Hermione, Harry and Ron’s conversations in the common room that night. They weren’t being extremely conversational anyway, due to the large amount of homework everyone had. Al was not working on school stuff, however, for he was too busy reading his brother’s letter for the second time:

 

_Hey Al,_

_It’s about time you write! Just kidding; trust me, I know just how busy those classes can get over there at Hogwarts. I’ve been pretty busy here in Amestris myself, too, with all this military crap I’ve had to fix. It’s amazing how dumb some of the people in the military are—you wouldn’t believe this guy I met in Youswell a couple weeks ago! I think I managed to get him sacked, though, and good thing too with all of the ridiculous taxing and abusing he was doing to the coal miners and their families there. But enough about me and my boring work._

_I’m really glad to hear you love Hogwarts as much as I did—and I TOLD YOU SO. McGonagall’s been talking about me? Wow, I wouldn’t have expected that—I mean, I guess she was my favorite teacher and all, but I don’t think I would have been her favorite student or anything. That was probably Hermione; she’s everyone’s favorite student. Except for Snape, he hates every non-Slytherin, as I’m sure you’ve found out by now. Tell Harry, Ron and Hermione I said hi and that I miss them a ton, too. I’ll admit, it’s weird not being back there, and it’s amazing how one year exposed to magic can really change a person’s view of the real world…_

_Speaking of, I’ve got to tell you, this psycho ‘priest’ (who ended up being a total third-rate fraud in more ways than one…) I confronted the other day knew about the magical world. He could even tell that I was a wizard! I don’t know how or where he heard that, but it freaked me out. I haven’t told anybody about that yet, and to be honest I’m not sure whether I should or not. What do you think? I’m wondering how many other so-called ‘Muggles’ know about the Wizarding World, too._

_Oh, I guess I’d better let you know; because alchemy is technically magic, I have to report back to the Ministry of Magic once a month in order for them to let me, an underage wizard, continue to serve the military as a State Alchemist. So if you’re wondering why my replies take so long, it’s because I have to use Nova to send a letter to the Ministry as well as to you. Sorry about that, Al, but I’ve got to do it to be able to do this._

_I’m so glad Lockhart wasn’t my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. That sounds awful, and I’m sure the idiot wouldn’t recognize Voldemort if he knocked on his office door. Sorry you had to get stuck with a teacher like that. And poor Harry! I wish I could see the look on his face when Lockhart does that!!_

_Why the hell did they even make you take that stupid flying class in the first place?? I agree with McGonagall, what the hell were they thinking? And oh yeah, I could have told you that about Harry. I just wish I went to more of his games, I only went to one…or maybe two, I can’t remember. I regret not seeing him be awesome more, though._

_I haven’t found much of anything out, honestly. I’ve been away on so many trips to take care of ‘domestic disturbances’ that I haven’t had much time to peruse the library or records or anything like that. Mustang has me working like mad, the lazy ass. He owes me one, after the train hijacking I just cleaned up for him and his office of thick-headed idiots! I_ did _find one copy, though it was not a very good one and broke immediately after being hit by a semi-powerful transmutation. That was the one I went to Lior to kick that fake priest’s ass over. He ended up breaking his own “stone,” I didn’t even have to confiscate it or anything. I was really disappointed to find that it was not a stone of any substantial power, though, I will admit that. But I’m not giving up anytime soon, Al. I’ll find some way to fix everything._

_You’ve been teaching Hermione alchemy? Has she transmuted anything by now, or still working on simple techniques? How does she like it so far? I wish I could be there; I want to see her learn it and help you teach her! That’s so cool, how interested she is in it—and you’re right, the way she picks up on things, she could easily overpower both of us, Al!!_

_…You’ve been hearing voices? You swear they were actually there? What did it sound like—I mean, was it like someone was there on the other side of the wall? It could just be a prank, you never know. I could see an upperclassman trying to pull something like that on the first years. Or it could have been one of the ghosts talking—maybe the Bloody Baron, the Slytherin ghost. He’s definitely creepy enough to be saying stuff like that…but then again, if that was the case it would make no sense, because surely Hermione would’ve heard something like that. I don’t know, Al that is scary…make sure you tell me if something like that happens again, alright? I want to know what’s going on, to make sure you’re ok…_

_I wish I was there with you, Al; I miss Hogwarts a lot more than I thought I would, and to be honest, the military sucks._

_I miss you, too, little brother,_

_Ed_

“They could’ve had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries! Handing it down, father to son…”

Alphonse looked up from his letter at Ron.

“Who are we talking about?”

“Malfoy,” the trio told Al in unison.

“We think he may be Slytherin’s heir,” Harry explained.

“I suppose that does make some sense…” Hermione said cautiously.

“How is someone supposed to prove something like that?” Al asked. “I mean, sure he hates Muggles—and he did say ‘you’ll be next, Mudbloods’ the other night, or something like that—“

“You see? Even Al thinks that was fishy!” Ron said.

“But he’s right; that’s not going to be good enough to prove anything,” Harry reasoned. “We need another way.”

“Actually, there _might_ be a way,” said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. “Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We’d be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect—“

“Just tell us!” Ron, Al and Harry said eagerly.

“…All right,” said Hermione. “What we’d need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it’s us.”

“But that’s impossible,” Harry said as Ron laughed and Al nodded.

“No, it’s not,” said Hermione. “All we’d need would be some Polyjuice Potion.”

“What’s that?” Ron, Harry and Al all said in unison again.

“Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago—“

“D’you think we’ve got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?” muttered Ron.

“It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into four—well, three of the Slytherins,” Hermione said, shooting Al a sad smile. “Sorry, Al, but I don’t think it would work for you.”  
“I figured as much,” Al said, shrugging. “Still, I want in on this; I want to help as much as I can.”

“Of course!” Harry said, and then looked back at Hermione. “This is a great idea; Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He’s probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him.”

“This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me,” said Ron, frowning. “What if we were stuck looking like three Slytherins forever?”

“It wears off after a while,” said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. Ron raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m surprised to see _you_ so eager to break the rules.”

Hermione’s mouth flattened into a thin line, and then she spoke quietly:

“I’m a Muggle-born, Ron. Harry’s mum was a Muggle-born, and Al’s mum wasn’t even a witch, making the two of them half-breeds as well. Think about it; the only person out of the four of us that would be free from Slytherin’s wrath is you. I want to do anything possible to keep anything from happening to any of us because of Malfoy.”

“Me too,” Al said fervently, and Harry nodded. Hermione paused, and then sighed:

“But getting ahold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called _Moste Potente Potions_ , and it’s bound to be in the Restricted Section of the Library.”

“How do we get in there?” Al asked.

“With a signed note from a teacher,” Harry said.

“Hard to see why we’d want the book, really,” said Ron, “if we weren’t going to try and make one of the potions.”

“I think,” said Hermione, “that if we made it sounds as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance…”

“Oh, come on, no teacher’s going to fall for that,” said Ron. “They’d have to be really thick—“

“Professor Lockhart would,” Al piped up. Harry nodded and grinned:

“I was just about to say the same thing.”

“Oh yeah,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Well then, that’s settled. Hermione, you just swoon up to him after class tomorrow and flutter your eyelashes a bit and he’ll sign anything for you.”

Hermione frowned at Ron’s sarcastic teasing, but nonetheless agreed to obtain Lockhart’s signature the next day after their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“Visitors, you say?” Dumbledore questioned Snape carefully. The greasy-haired Potions master nodded.

“They were sent to deliver this to Alphonse Elric,” he said, handing Dumbledore the envelope he had received from the strange duo at the gates that morning. The headmaster looked at it skeptically, then back up at Snape.

“Open it,” Snape said, and Dumbledore did so. Upon seeing that it contained no letter, his white eyebrows creased slightly in confusion.

“What did these people look like again, Severus?”

“The woman had long black hair and very dark eyes, and the man was extremely short and…well, fat. They were definitely in disguise, sir; no doubt about that.”

Dumbledore nodded once, and then turned his back on his Potions master to retrieve something from his desk. It was another letter—the letter he had received from the strange black bird way before the school semester had begun. He re-read it, and nodded once again. Snape narrowed his eyes at his headmaster, wanting to ask what the letter was about but choosing instead to keep his mouth shut in hopes that Dumbledore was planning on filling him in anyway.

“Have you ever heard of a creature called a Homunculus, Severus?”

Snape raised an unamused eyebrow at the headmaster.

“Surely you’re joking, sir.”

“I am not. You do not believe they exist?”

“It’s impossible for them to; that level of advanced alchemy has yet to be developed, and it is not likely to be done now, either, with Nicolas Flamel dead and Van Hohenheim either lost or dead, as well.”

Dumbledore chuckled darkly.

“It has been a while since you’ve delved into the art of alchemy, hasn’t it?”

Snape’s expression darkened significantly.

“…You know I haven’t done that in years now…and I’ve no mindset to start it again.”

“I understand,” Dumbledore said, glancing back down at the letter in his hands before passing it over to Snape. “Read this.”

The Potions master looked at Dumbledore for a long moment, and then sighed and snatched the letter out of the older wizard’s grasp, pressing his lips together in a thin line before reading through the letter. Dumbledore waited patiently, looking out of the window of his office as he waited for Snape to finish reading the letter.

“…He’s _alive_?”

Dumbledore looked over his shoulder and over his spectacles at Snape.

“It would appear so,” he said, and Snape looked up to find a blank expression upon the headmaster’s face. He could not understand how Dumbledore was so calm about this news, however, for he was just about ready to explode with frustration.

“How long have you known?” he demanded of the headmaster. Dumbledore was unfazed by Snape, and he replied whilst taking back his letter from the black-haired man’s steely grip:

“I received this letter at the beginning of the school year and promptly sent a reply. Not that one was necessary, of course, but I was curious to see whether or not he would reply back with more information…I can see now that that will not be the case.”

“Leave it to someone like _him_ to drop information like this upon us all and then still remain in hiding,” Snape said, growling the word _‘coward’_ under his breath. Dumbledore did not say anything but instead replaced the letter back in its envelope. Snape observed him do so for a moment and then asked curiously:

“When were you planning on telling either of the Elric brothers about this?”

“Not anytime soon,” Dumbledore said. “I would rather assume that they would find out from him himself rather than through me. After all, Edward did not see fit to listen to me when I presented him with vague information; I doubt that Alphonse would be any different in that matter.”

“They are not the same person,” Snape pointed out, though there was a thoroughly visible frown upon his face, showing that he obviously did not care whether or not Edward and Alphonse were separate beings, for he rather disliked them both equally. “You never know, the younger one may be a bit more gullible.”

Dumbledore sighed and shrugged.

“I’m sticking with my instincts on this one, Severus. With a man as powerful as he is warning us about dark things such as Homunculi, I think that it would be best to be patient and cautious more than anything else. For all we know, there could very well be something out there far more dangerous than what is written into his letter.”

“I cannot _believe_ him!” Snape busted out suddenly, though this outburst obviously came as no surprise to Dumbledore. He sighed again and sat down at his desk as the Potions master continued:

“After all these years, after all the betrayal and—and now he decides to finally let us know he’s alive by telling us _this_?”

“It all seems rather frustrating, I suppose…” Dumbledore agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “And trust me; Minerva had the same reaction as you.”

“…How on earth did a man like _that_ manage to escape the Dark Lord’s wrath?”

Dumbledore cocked his head at Snape.

“I think you and I both know the answer to that.”

“If you know something about that,” Snape growled, “Then do inform me, because I have been completely left in the dark all this time and you know it.”

Dumbledore stared at Snape for a long moment, allowing him time to calm down enough to register words and logic again. At last, the old wizard rose from his seat.

“…Whatever you do, Severus…do not tell Alphonse Elric about anything I have told you today. I believe he has enough to fear at this school other than these threats that were described in this letter. As long as we know about this, no Homunculi are going to get inside of this castle’s walls.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“ _Moste Potente Potions_?” Madam Pince, the strict librarian repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn’t let go.

“I was wondering if I could keep it,” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, come on,” said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. “We’ll get you another autograph. Lockhart’ll sign anything if it stands still long enough.”

Five minutes later, they were barricaded in Moaning Myrtle’s out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron’s initial objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Moaning Myrtle was crying noisily in her stall, but they were ignoring her, and she them.

“Here it is,” said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed _The Polyjuice Potion_. Al looked over her shoulder at the recipe in curiosity. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. Harry sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.

“This is the most complicated potion I’ve ever seen,” said Hermione. “Lacewing flies, leeches, flux weed—those’ll be easy enough to get ahold of, they’re in the student cupboard, we can help ourselves…Oooooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn—don’t know where we’re going to get that—shredded skin of a boom slang—that’ll be tricky, too—and, of course a bit of whoever we want to change into.”

The three boys stared at her.

“Excuse me?” Ron said sharply.

“I’m suddenly really glad I don’t have to drink any of that…” Alphonse remarked, trying hard not to laugh at the expression on Harry’s face.

“I’m drinking _nothing_ with Crabbe’s toenails in it—“

Hermione continued as if she had not heard them.

“We don’t have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last…”

Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.

“D’you realize how much we’re going to have to steal, Hermione? I’m not sure this is such a good idea after all…”

Hermione shut the book with a snap.

“Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine,” she said. She looked up at Al, her eyes bright and her cheeks pink, and then glared back at Harry and Ron before continuing:

“ _I_ don’t want to break rules, you know. _I_ think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don’t want to find out if it’s Malfoy, I’ll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in—“

“All right, we’ll do it,” said Ron. “But no toenails, okay?”

“How long will it take to make, anyway?” Al asked as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again.

“…If we can get all the ingredients, about a month.”

“A _month_?” said Harry. “Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!”

“I know,” Hermione said grimly. “…But it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

For some odd reason, the toast looked particularly good to Alphonse the next morning. He could not understand why, though, for it had never fazed him on any other morning, and he had been going to breakfast with his friends every day since the beginning of the school year. But this morning, he could not take his eyes off of the buttery loaf of perfectly browned bread before him. _I don’t even like toast that much,_ he though in confusion as he followed a piece off of the platter and finally looked away when it made contact with Ron’s open mouth.

To distract him from the tasty-looking food before him that he could not eat, Al removed Ed’s letter from his backpack and began to re-read it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to beat Slytherin so badly,” Harry admitted to his friends as he picked at his eggs. Ron nodded in fervent agreement and said through his full mouth:

“I unnerstan’, with all duh shtuff goin’ on.”

“You’re _disgusting_ ,” Hermione muttered, wrinkling her nose as she turned away from Ron’s bad table manners. Al chuckled slightly; Ron’s eating habits reminded him distinctly of Ed, and Hermione’s reaction reminding him of Winry.

“Ed told me to wish you luck, by the way, Harry,” Al piped up, showing him the letter his older brother had written to him. Harry smiled his thanks at Al and glanced at the letter.

“I should write to him, too,” Harry remarked.

“Good idea!” Hermione said enthusiastically. Ron nodded and swallowed before saying in agreement:

“I’m gonna write something to him, too.”

“We should all write something and put them all in a big envelope, and Nova can take all of our letters to Ed at the same time,” Hermione suggested, to which Al nodded.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said, but before he could continue two tall figures approached the table behind him.

“Did somebody mention—“ Fred began and then grinned at his twin to finish his statement with him:

“Writing letters to Major Elric?”

“Yeah,” Al said, laughing as they performed an enthusiastic mock-salute.

“Count us in!” they said in unison.

As eleven o’clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron, Al and Hermione hurried to wish Harry good luck as he entered the locker rooms, and then made their way into the crowded stands hurriedly in order to get good seats.

“No doubt you’ll be able to see no matter where we stand, Al,” Hermione remarked, smiling jealously at him. “I wish I was taller.”

“Not this tall!” Al said. “It gets really annoying at times.” But as he looked up into the stands at all of the people, he could not help but agree that, for once, his height would come to be a great advantage at these kind of sporting events.

“Last time your brother came to a Quidditch match,” Ron told Al with a big grin, “he kicked Malfoy’s butt.”

“Yes, and you two were nearly expelled for it, too,” Hermione said with a frown. Ron gaped at her:

“We were _not_! We barely got into any trouble for it!”

“Doesn’t make it right.”

“Look, Malfoy—“

“Look, there’s Hagrid,” Hermione interrupted the ginger. “Let’s go sit with him.”

As the teams walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them. Al watched with great curiosity as Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

“On my whistle,” said Madam Hooch. “Three…two…one…”

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the players rose toward the leaden sky. Al tilted his helmet up in awe at the sight.

“That is so cool…”

“Isn’t it?” Ron said, grinning at his friend’s reaction. “And this is barely the beginning to the game, too.”

As the game progressed, though, all of the Gryffindors found themselves taking more of a disliking to the turnout after all. With their new brooms, the Slytherin team was kicking Gryffindor’s behinds badly, and as Lee Jordan announced ‘ _another goal for Slytherin! They lead Gryffindor ninety to thirty!_ , Al watched with horror as a heavy black Bludger suddenly went pelting towards Harry, nearly knocking him clear off his broom. Hermione gasped, and all three of them leaned against the railing in worry, watching intently as George gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of a Slytherin player, but the Bludger changed direction in midair and shot straight back for Harry again. Harry dropped quickly to avoid it, and George managed to hit it hard toward Malfoy. Once again, the ball swerved like a boomerang and shot straight for the Gryffindor Seeker’s head.

“Blimey! Harry’s got himself a rogue Bludger!” Hagrid yelled from next to Alphonse. “That’s been tampered with, that has!”

Ron extracted his wand from inside his robes and pointed out at the field.

“I’ll stop it.”

“No way,” Al said, putting his huge leathery hand out to block the wand’s tip. “Your wand’s messed-up, remember?”

“Even with a proper wand it’s too risky,” Hermione agreed. “You could hit Harry!”

“Fine,” Ron said, stowing his wand with a huff. “But what are we gonna _do_? What if it hits him??”

“Let’s just hope he’s a good enough player to avoid it until the game ends,” said Al, a tone of worry in his voice. Hermione nodded in agreement, not taking her eyes off of the game.

“C’mon, Harry!” Hagrid yelped in encouragement.

Al gasped suddenly:

“Look! There’s the Snitch! Harry saw it!”

WHAM.

“Oh no…” the armored boy said as he saw the crazy Bludger finally hit his friend in the arm. But he kept watching, even after Hermione had turned away from the scene; Harry took his remaining hand off his broom and made a wild snatch. An uproar rose from every Gryffindor in the stands as they saw his fingers wrap around the Snitch, and then Harry headed straight for the ground. With a splattering thud he hit the mud and rolled off of his broom.

“Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! _Gryffindor wins_!” Lee Jordan yelled as Hermione opened her eyes and turned to Al, Ron and Hagrid.

“Come on, we’d better get down there.”

“Right,” Hagrid nodded, leading the way out of the stands and down onto the field.

When Harry finally looked up from the Golden Snitch clenched in his good hand, he saw a glitter of teeth from someone leaning over him.

“Oh no, not you,” he moaned.

“Harry!” Ron called out as he ran over to his friend’s side.

“Harry, are you alright?” Alphonse asked, Hermione close by his side, also worried about her fallen friend.

“C’mon, Harry, I’ll take yeh to Madam Pomfrey,” Hagrid began to say, but was interrupted by Lockhart’s big booming voice:

“Not to worry, Hagrid! I will fix that arm of yours straight away, Harry.”

Harry shook his head vigorously:

“ _No!_ ” he said a little more forcefully. “I’ll keep it this way, thanks…”

He tried to sit up, but the pain was terrible. He heard a familiar clicking noise nearby.

“I don’t want a photo of this, Colin,” he said loudly.

“Lie back, Harry,” said Lockhart soothingly. Alphonse stepped up and said nervously to the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher:

“Sir, I don’t think this is such a good idea. Maybe we should just take him to the Hospital Wing.”

“Nonsense, Alphonse,” Lockhart said, flourishing his wand with a smile. “It’s a simple charm I’ve used countless times—“

“He should, really, Professor,” said a muddy Wood, who couldn’t help grinning even though his Seeker was injured. But as Harry and Alphonse observed the scene play out before them, they both knew there was nothing that was going to stop the big-headed Lockhart.

“Stand back,” he ordered, rolling up his jade-green sleeves and pointing his wand at Harry’s broken arm.

“… _Brackium emendo_!”

Harry had closed his eyes, not wanting to watch Lockhart perform his half-hazard spell. But judging by the sounds of disgust he was hearing from the small crowd surrounding him, the result was not a good one, even though his arm didn’t hurt anymore, but nor did it even feel remotely like an arm.

“Ah,” said Lockhart. “Yes. Well, that can sometimes happen…But, the point is, uh…you can no longer feel any pain and, heh—very clearly, the bones are not broken.”

“Broken?” Hagrid said loudly. “There’s no bones _left_!”

Harry opened his eyes and watched with horror as what used to be his arms flopped around in Lockhart’s grasp like a thick, flesh-colored rubber glove. He tried to move his fingers. Nothing happened.

“Much more flexible, though,” Lockhart reasoned with a charming grin. Alphonse shook his head, looked at Hagrid and asked:

“Can we take him to the Hospital Wing now?”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“That won’t work again, you fool,” Lust growled at the figure in front of her. She froze for a moment, however, when several heads in the Central, Amestris train station turned and gave her a wary look upon hearing her growl. With a frown she gestured over to a shadowed place next to an abandoned teller box, leading both Gluttony and Envy over there to finish their conversation.

“And why wouldn’t it work?” Envy asked boredly.

“They know something,” she said in disgust. “I don’t know who would have tipped Dumbledore or that black-haired teacher what we look like, but for some reason they know our faces.”

“It’s true,” Gluttony said, removing his finger from his mouth for a moment to speak his mind. “The big greasy-haired man wouldn’t let us in.”

“He didn’t even make a move to open the gate at all,” Lust said, crossing her arms and huffing in frustration. Envy thought for a moment, and then grinned evilly.

“You need somebody more… _skilled_ , eh?”

Lust frowned.

“No; we need a freak like you to get into the school.”

“ _Freak_ —??”

“Yes, _freak_ ,” Lust said, rolling her eyes. “Do I look like a shape-shifter to you? You’re the only one with the ability to put on a convincing enough disguise to trick them. Though they are old, they’re not fools, unfortunately.”

Gluttony nodded in agreement. Envy also crossed his arms as Lust continued:

“I’ve already talked to Father about this, and he agrees that it would be better for you to trail Alphonse and for us to trail Edward.”

“What trailing? The boy’s stuck at school,” Envy said with a pout. “The Fullmetal pipsqueak is so much more fun to follow.”

“Oh, stop whining and do as you’re told,” Lust said, rolling her eyes.

“Fine,” Envy said with a huff. “When does the next train to Britain leave?”

Lust looked up at the clock tower, and then read the schedule on the abandoned booth’s window next to her as the whistle of the train in the station about to head out blew sharply. Lust pointed a gloved finger at it:

“In about one minute. Run.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

_Kill. Kill... Time to kill!_

Harry jerked open his eyes after hearing the voice and suddenly realized somebody was sponging his forehead in the dark.

“Get off!” he said loudly, and then, “ _Dobby_!”

The house-elf’s goggling tennis ball eyes were peering at Harry through the darkness.

“Harry Potter should have listened to Dobby! Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter. Ah sir, why didn’t you heed Dobby? Harry Potter should have gone back home when he missed the train.”

Harry heaved himself up on his pillows and pushed Dobby’s sponge away.

“What’re you doing here?” he said. “And how did you know I missed the train?”

Dobby’s lip trembled and Harry was seized by a sudden suspicion.

“It was _you_!” he said slowly. “ _You_ stopped the barrier from letting us through!”

“Indeed yes, sir,” said Dobby, nodding his head vigorously, ears flapping.

“You nearly got Ron and me expelled!”

“At least you would be away from here. Harry Potter must go home! Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough to make Harry Potter see that—“

“ _Your_ Bludger?” said Harry, anger rising once more. “What d’you mean, _your_ Bludger? _You_ made that thing try and kill me?”

“Not kill you, sir, never kill you!” said Dobby, shocked. “Dobby remembers how it was before Harry Potter triumphed over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. We house elves were treated like vermin, sir. Of course, Dobby is still treated like vermin...uh, huh, huh, huh! Aah, ahh...”

He blew his nose on a corner of the filthy pillowcase he wore, looking so pathetic that Harry felt his anger ebb away in spite of himself.

“Why d’you wear that thing Dobby?” he asked curiously.

“This, sir?” said Dobby, plucking at the pillowcase. “’Tis a mark of the house-elves’ enslavement. Dobby can only be freed if his master presents him with clothes. Ah! Listen. Listen! Terrible things are about to happen at Hogwarts. Harry Potter must not stay here, now that history is to repeat itself.”

“Repeat itself?” Harry said, sitting up a little more in his bed. “You mean this has happened before?”

Dobby froze, horror-struck.

“Ah! I shouldn’t have said that! Oh! Ah! Dah! Bad Dobby! Bad!”

“Dobby, stop it! Stop it! Stop, Dobby! Tell me, Dobby. When did this happen before? Who’s doing it now?”

But before Dobby could say anything, he froze again, his bat ears quivering. Harry heard it, too. There were footsteps coming down the passageway outside.

“Dobby must go!” breathed the elf, terrified. There was a loud crack, and then Dobby was gone out of sight. Harry slumped back into bed, his eyes on the dark doorway to the hospital wings as the footsteps drew nearer…but as they approached, Harry realized that they were more metallic in nature.

“…Alphonse?”

Sure enough, just a second later the armored Elric brother walked into the dark Hospital Wing.

“I thought you might be awake,” Al whispered, even though there was no one else spending the night there except for Harry, who sat back up in his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty awful,” he said truthfully. “But I think it’s just the last few bones growing back right now. No offense or anything, but what’re you doing here?”

Al laughed once and shrugged.

“I get bored at night. I’ve never left the room to see the rest of the castle at night until tonight, though. I was too scared of getting in trouble.”

Al paused for a moment, and then said quietly:

“Also, I heard the voice again.”

“So did I! And get this,” Harry said, quickly recanting his most recent visit with Dobby to the younger Elric brother. When he was done Al stared at him in disbelief.

“This just happened?”

“Yes!”

“I can’t believe he tried to kill you!”

“I don’t think he meant to kill me, but yeah,” Harry said, frowning. “His methods of protecting me aren’t very good.”

“I agree. And what is that supposed to mean, that ‘history is to repeat itself?’”

Harry paused, and then said grimly:

“I think he means that this has all happened before, that the Chamber was opened before now.”

“So…that means there really _is_ a Chamber of Secrets, and that the heir really is here at Hogwarts right now.”

“Yeah, and—“

But Harry was forced to freeze mid-sentence. He heard footsteps approaching again. Alphonse did too, and he rose from his seat next to Harry’s bed in fright, his helmet turning in every direction in search for a place to hide. Finally, he saw a large curtain next to one of the beds across from Harry’s and ran to cover his armor behind it as Harry dove back beneath his covers, pretending to be fast asleep.

“Put him here,” Alphonse could hear Madam Pomfrey say in a soft but urgent tone of voice. “What happened?”

“There’s been another attack,” another voice spoke, and Alphonse’s eyes widened as he recognized it to be Dumbledore’s. He struggled to keep his metal body from shaking in nervousness, knowing he would be in huge trouble if he got caught by the headmaster. “Minerva found him on the stairs.”

 _Oh great_ , Al thought in frustration. _Professor McGonagall’s here too! Of all the nights for me to pick to sneak out…_

He peeked around the curtain for a split second just to see who the victim was. It was Colin Creevey.

“There was a bunch of grapes next to him,” said Professor McGonagall. “We think he was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter.”

 _Just like me!_ Al thought in horror. _That could have just as easily been me!_

He paused at that thought; _can I even be petrified in this body…?_

“Petrified?” whispered Madam Pomfrey.

“Yes,” said McGonagall. “But I shudder to think…If Albus hadn’t been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate—who knows what might have—“

There was a moment of silence as the three of them stared down at Colin. Then Dumbledore leaned forward and wrenched the camera out of Colin’s rigid grip.

“You don’t think he managed to get a picture of his attacker?” said Professor McGonagall eagerly.

Dumbledore did not answer. He opened the back of the camera. A jet of steam hissed out menacingly.

“Melted,” said Madam Pomfrey wonderingly. “All melted…”

“What does this _mean_ , Albus?” McGonagall asked urgently.

“It means,” said Dumbledore, “that the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again.”

Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth. Professor McGonagall stared at Dumbledore.

“But, Albus…surely… _who_?”

“The question is not _who_ ,” said Dumbledore, his eyes on Colin. “The question is, _how_ …”

Judging from what Al could see of Professor McGonagall’s shadowy face, she didn’t understand this any better than he did. With that last statement, McGonagall turned and exited the Hospital Wing, followed soon by Madam Pomfrey after she did all she could to care for Colin in his current state of being. The only one that remained was Professor Dumbledore, who was still by Colin’s beside, his eyes on the poor boy’s stiff body.

“…You can come out now, Alphonse.”

Alphonse jumped in surprise, sending several bottles of medicine off of the shelves next to him and onto the hard floor. The boy emerged guiltily from behind the curtain, stepping out to the right of the mess he had just made. Dumbledore merely chuckled and, with a wave of his wand, repaired the broken bottles instantly.

“How’d you know I was here, sir?” Alphonse asked, but the white-bearded wizard only shrugged in explanation. “…Am I in trouble?”

“Only if you tell anyone about what you’ve heard tonight,” Dumbledore said softly. “I do not wish for there to be any more chaos than what is already occurring.”

“So there _is_ a Chamber of Secrets…and the thing that’s petrifying everyone—that’s the monster, isn’t it??”

“I’m afraid so,” Dumbledore said grimly, glancing back at Colin.

“But what kind of creature does that to people?” Alphonse questioned, but Dumbledore held up his hand.

“That is quite enough unsettling news for one night, don’t you think, Alphonse Elric?”

Al paused, then sighed and nodded in defeat. Dumbledore offered the boy a sad smile.

“You should go on back up to your room now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Alphonse?”

“Yes?”

Dumbledore looked straight into Al’s helmet as he said with soft sternness:

“Do not tell anyone about what you’ve heard tonight.”

“…Of course I won’t, sir.”

“Good. Good night, then, Mr. Elric.”

“Goodnight, Professor Dumbledore.”

And with that, Al hastily retreated from the Hospital Wing, his head spinning with everything that he had learned about that night. _That’s what I’ve been hearing in the walls, the monster from the Chamber! But why can Harry and I hear it, but not anyone else? What sort of thing could be doing that to people, and not everyone can hear it coming?_ He made a mental note to ask Hermione about it at breakfast the next day, and then they could hit the library as soon as possible…But then he remembered Dumbledore’s strict orders: _Do not tell anyone about what you’ve heard tonight._

He couldn’t tell Hermione. He had promised Dumbledore not to…

_But Harry didn’t make any promises. I hope he was awake during that entire conversation. He can tell Hermione and Ron anything he wanted to, and then maybe we can figure this all out once and for all…_

 

~~*e.s.*~~


	9. A Magic-Less World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's check in on Edward's adventure, now, shall we...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Eight: A Magic-Less World~

 

_These people can’t honestly believe that I can’t hear what they’re saying about me, can they? I’m not stupid…but they obviously are._

Edward frowned as he entered the building, flanked by several men that met him and the Colonel at the train station he had arrived at with a bang. He could not understand why catching all of those stupid hijackers was not enough for them all, why they could not just thank him and leave it at that. He could understand that they wanted answers upon how he did the things that he did, but Mustang and the Ministry of Magic forbade him to tell any Muggle soul, so that was out of the question. Why can’t they just be content with not knowing everything and accepting the heroes amongst them?

“Why so quiet, Fullmetal?” Mustang questioned with slight mirth. “I would have expected you to be gloating about your grand victory right about now.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Colonel,” Ed said with a grin. “You’re going to hear it in just a minute.”

“Fantastic,” the Colonel said, rolling his eyes as he entered his office, holding the door open for Ed to follow him through. As soon as everyone saw Edward, they stood up and began to clap and cheer, much to both Ed and Mustang’s surprise. Fury, Havoc and Breda ran up to him and took turns clapping him on the back.

“Good job, kid,” Breda said with a grin.

“Yeah, seriously,” Fury said in agreement as he straightened up his glasses upon the bridge of his nose. “We could hear the whole thing over the intercom—you kicked butt!”

“And all by yourself, too,” Havoc said. “Pretty impressive given your size—“

“Who are you calling _small_?!!” Ed screeched, wrenching himself away from the three of them as they simultaneously broke down into bouts of laughter. With a huff, Ed plopped into an armchair that sat before Mustang’s large desk, looking up at Mustang with a smirk as he sat down in front of the Fullmetal Alchemist.

“You owe me for this one, Colonel.”

The corner of Mustang’s mouth tilted upwards into a small, cold smile.

“Hearing you say that makes a chill run down my spine…all right. So what do you want?”

Ed raised an eyebrow at Mustang.

“You sure come right to the point,” he said, sitting forward in his chair as he continued:

“I need to know more about bio-alchemy. Where can I go around here for more information? Like a library or an expert?”

“Right now?” Mustang asked. “You sure are in a hurry…”

“My arm and leg aren’t going to just grow back if I wait long enough!” Ed growled in impatience. “Plus I promised Al—“

“Yes, I know, I know,” Mustang said, rising from his seat. “It’s been awhile since we saw each other…why don’t we have a cup of tea?”

“What’s so fun about drinking tea with _you_?” Ed said in annoyance as he and the Colonel rose to their feet. Mustang was ignoring him, though, as he rummaged through his shelves for a certain file folder.

“…I know it’s here somewhere…here it is.”

“What _is_ ‘it’?”

“Your next assignment, Fullmetal,” Mustang said sternly, turning and facing the blonde boy. Before Ed could speak up in protest, however, the Colonel continued:

“If you find this man for me, I will find you a bio-alchemist to speak with personally, alright? But the domestic affairs of Amestris have to come first as a State Alchemist.”

Ed paused for a moment, then huffed and nodded once.

“I know…ok; who is the guy?”

Mustang opened the file folder in his hands.

“His name is Damien Carey, formerly known as the Onyx Alchemist. We revoked his State license after he was caught in the act of performing illegal transmutations upon his own body and incarcerated him for the attempted murder of two fellow State Alchemists five months after up in Central. A week ago guards walked up to his cell to find it completely empty and devoid of any signs of escape. He was last sighted on his way here. Your job is to go there and get him back into prison; you’re not the only one currently working on this case, at the moment we’ve also got Major Armstrong and Brigadier General Grand looking for him, but we do not want to get too many State Alchemists on this because of the serial killer out on the streets up in Central at the moment.”

“Serial killer? So you’re sending _me_ out there because you think I’m disposable?”

“I’m sending you out there because I believe—especially after observing how well you handled the train hijacking—that you’re the one that can bring Carey down.”

Ed rolled his eyes.

“Is this guy really that threatening? Why was he called the Onyx Alchemist anyway?”

“Because his specialty was turning the day as dark as the night; in the Ishvalan war, he was a great ally to have to blind the enemy troops and allow everyone else to wipe them out quickly and efficiently. His talent is also making his especially hard to catch, because all he has to do to escape is transmute the light away and disappear through the dark.”

“Oh,” Ed said. “…I see.”

“Don’t underestimate him, Fullmetal.”

“Point taken,” Ed said, waving a hand in Mustang’s direction before taking the file folder out of his grip. “So if I find this guy, you’ll introduce me to a bio-alchemist to talk to?”

“I will take you to a bio-alchemist personally if you can this psychopath. I already have one in mind to call for you.”

Ed grinned widely:

“You’ve made me an offer I can’t refuse, Colonel; Damien Carey’s going down.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

One bed; a small bathroom; a window; and a little wooden desk beneath it are all that made up Edward’s current temporary residence. It was a great hotel room for just one person, and it was very cheaply priced and located right down the street from the East City military headquarters. However, Ed could not help but think that he could have afforded something much nicer and larger, now that he not only had plenty of Wizard money, but also a good amount of Muggle money at hand as well. If anything, that alone was a decent reason to have joined the military as a State Alchemist. But as Ed looked out his window at the streets below, he could not help but long to be looking out upon the dark grounds of Hogwarts instead. Not only was the view much more beautiful there, but also more inspiring.

He was not lying to Alphonse when he told him he was constantly searching for a way to restore his body, but his search was much more subdued than it had ever been at Hogwarts. He not only had much less free time than at school, but also he seemed to be having trouble coming up with as many ideas, especially with the Philosopher’s Stone gone now and the option of using magic to fix himself and Al being completely eradicated and forbidden by the Ministry of Magic.

It was frustrating, the position he found himself in. At times he almost regretted not taking Dumbledore’s advice and just staying at Hogwarts, for at least he said there was a way to restore Al, even if he was going to wait a while before showing him how. At least there he had hope; there was so little hope in the military that at times he just wanted to hand over his pocket watch and leave town.

But then all he has to do is think of Alphonse, how long he has been without sleep, food…any kind of human comfort and necessity that any ten-year-old should never be deprived from. And it was his entire fault that Al was stuck in that armor. He could not accept just sitting around in a classroom, waiting. He had to make an effort now, to show Al he really was trying to make amends.

Ed flopped down on his bed, sighing heavily as he opened up Damien Carey’s file folder and began to read up on his crimes.

A few hours later, with as much info on the criminal he could gather from Carey’s file noted up in his brain, Ed exited the hotel, muttering to himself, “Let’s get this over with _._ ”

It was only his first night on patrol with Armstrong, and already Edward was sick and tired of him.

“Stop treating me like a kid, Major!” he said for the umpteenth time. “General Grand thought I could handle things by myself— _why can’t you_?”

“Come now, Edward,” Armstrong said in his booming voice, straightening up his large military jacket as he smiled down over his moustache at Ed. “It’s like my father has always said, two’s a company! Besides, it is much too dangerous out here at night for you to be wandering off on your own.”

“That’s what I mean!” Ed said through gritted teeth. “Stop saying stuff like that, I’m not a little kid!”

But Armstrong was off in his own little world, searching the streets while humming softly to himself. Ed had to stop himself from asking the Major to stop that again, for after the first time he did so, Armstrong got all huffy and stated that the habit of humming while patrolling was something ‘passed down the Armstrong family for generations.’ Nothing was worse than when Armstrong ripped off his shirt and proclaimed that to the world. Edward huffed, furrowing his brow as he begrudgingly followed the large Major, thinking to himself: _Mustang owes me BIG TIME for this one…!_

“Shush!” Armstrong hissed, suddenly stopping in his tracks, causing Edward to accidentally run into him.

“Ow—what, what is it?”

“Did you hear that?” the big man whispered, to which Edward shook his head. He watched carefully, suddenly feeling very awake and alert as Armstrong glanced warily up and down the empty street they were on. The large man’s eyes then flitted up to a single streetlamp that stood less than four feet away from where they stood. Ed also watched as the single light bulb inside of it began to dim in and out of brightness and then eventually go out entirely.

“He’s here,” Armstrong hissed, extracting a single flashlight out for inside his jacket and switching in on quickly. Edward followed suit and extracted his own flashlight as well, his golden eyes narrowed as he scanned the area with Armstrong.

“Perhaps we should split up,” the Major suggested with a frown. “We’ll cover more area that way.”

“Agreed,” Ed said with a nod, eager to finally leave the man’s annoying presence at last.

“Alright then; I’ll go this way, you go back down the street in the opposite direction.”

“Got it.”

“And be careful out there, Edward Elric!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed said, turning and running in the opposite direction as Armstrong, the beam from his flashlight wavering slightly with each footfall. As he searched, more and more streetlamps went out, engulfing him more and more into the darkness of the night. _So this is how he works,_ Ed thought with a frown. _He’s going to attempt to black us out and then attack when we can’t see him at all._ He smirked, confident that the night could not possibly get black enough to keep him from seeing an oncoming attack.

Much to his surprise, however, the lights suddenly flashed back on. Edward stopped in his tracks, shutting off his flashlight as he looked around in confusion. _Ok…this doesn’t seem right. What’s going on here?_

Before he could lift another foot and begin walking down the street again, a blood-curdling yell of agony pierced the night air. Suddenly, Armstrong was right behind him.

“That’s General Grand!”

“Uh oh,” Ed said, sprinting after Armstrong towards the sound of the Brigadier General’s distress call.

The scene they beheld when they arrived was beyond gruesome. Edward’s eyes widened twice their size as he stared in horror at what was left of Grand. Armstrong shook his head, turning away from the scene, his chest heaving in sadness for the loss of his commanding officer.

“Scar,” he whispered. Ed looked at him.

“The serial killer Mustang was telling me about?”

“Yes…we’d better get out of here and head over to HQ to report what happened.”

“Right,” Ed said grimly, looking once more at the discombobulated remains of what was once the Iron Blood Alchemist.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

The news of Brigadier General Grand’s murder hit East City HQ hard. Apparently, he was one of the most powerful alchemists the Amestrian military had to offer, so the fact that he was able to be taken down so quickly and gruesomely was disturbing to say the least.

“So you don’t want me patrolling out at night at all now?” Ed asked Mustang confusedly. Mustang nodded grimly.

“We can’t afford any more casualties, Fullmetal.”

“Then how the hell am I supposed to catch Damien Carey?”

Armstrong looked back and forth between Ed and Mustang, opening his mouth once to say something and then deciding against it at the last minute. Ed frowned, locking his glare on Mustang until the exasperated Colonel finally exhaled in frustration.

“Fine. Do what you want. Just do us all a favor and stay in at least tonight, ok? If Scar’s still out there, he’ll go for you next.”

“Or Armstrong,” Ed pointed out. Armstrong shrugged:

“Or both.”

“That’s enough,” Mustang said, rolling his eyes.

And with that, Ed left HQ, frustrated at the stalemate in his plans to hurry up and finish up this case so that he could meet with a bio-alchemist. He returned to his hotel room and flopped down onto the bed, covering his eyes with his human arm in order to shield them from the light entering into the room through the window. Carey’s folder was laid out upon the small desk across from him, the papers within spread out just the way he had them the previous night just before he had gone out searching with Major Armstrong. He honestly had no intention to look over them again that afternoon. All he wanted to do is just go out and can the psychopath already. He sat up upon the bed, frowning to himself. If Alphonse was there with him, he would know what would be the best thing to do in this type of situation…

His frown evaporated up into a huge grin as Nova came flying up to his window. He jumped up from the bed and hurriedly opened it, letting his little feathered friend in and taking the satchel she delivered from her.

“About time,” he jokingly chastised the bird, to which Nova pecked him harshly upon his automail hand. Ed laughed:

“You know I can’t feel that!”

He picked up the large envelope she had brought to him, weighing it in his hands. He cocked his head at Nova curiously.

“Why’s it so heavy this time?”

Nova merely blinked at him. Eagerly, Ed ripped it open, his eyes widening slightly as five smaller parchment envelopes fell out from the larger one. Ed looked at Nova with pity.

“This must’ve been really heavy for you to fly with.”

Nova narrowed her eyes as if saying: _just read them already!!_

Ed sat down on the edge of his bed, rummaging through the envelopes, which were all similarly addressed to: _Ed, Edward, Ed, Brother_ and _Major Elric._ Ed grinned widely, recognizing his friend’s differentiating scripts with excitement. He chose the one that bore Harry’s handwriting on the front first and hurriedly opened it up.

 

_Hey Ed,_

_When Hermione, Ron and I saw that you had finally written Al back, we got the idea to send you a letter from each of us, too. So now you're probably sitting there with about five envelopes in front of you, and poor Nova is probably exhausted from carrying around all of that parchment. You may want to give her a break before replying to all of us..._

_We all really miss you here, Ed. Hogwarts really isn't the same without you. It's so much darker now, and dangerous. Surely Al has told you about all of the people that have been petrified lately--or maybe not, if you two haven't written to each other recently. A lot has happened in the time you've been gone, but I'll go ahead and let Al fill you in on all the gross details._

_We won our first Quidditch match! Barely, but we did it. The strangest thing happened, though, in the middle of the game. One of the Bludgers started following me all across the field and trying to take me down off of my broom throughout the entire game. It was the hardest game I’ve played because of that…that and the fact that Slytherin’s new Seeker is Malfoy. Just great, right? He was awful during the game, saying stupid things, trying to distract me from getting the Snitch. But I got it anyway…and then right after that I fell off my broom and ended up getting hit in the arm by the Bludger anyway. Before I could go see Madam Pomfrey, Lockhart ran up to me and performed some sort of spell on the injury that made all of the bones in my entire arm vanish. I spent the night in the Hospital Wing re-growing all of them. Lockhart’s an idiot…_

_Anyway, want to know who charmed the Bludger? Dobby! You know, that House Elf I told you all about during the summer that keeps trying to get me to leave Hogwarts? Yep, that was another one of his tricks. I went off on him about it and argued with him for a little while…and while doing that, I got him to admit that all of the crazy things that have been happening here at Hogwarts lately all happened before; he clearly said that ‘history is to repeat itself.’_

_Whatever is happening, it can’t be good. Like I said before, though, I’ll let Al tell you all about that._

_I hope the military is treating you well, and that you’ve found another way to restore you and your brother’s bodies. Al is just as amazing of a friend that you are, Ed, and neither of you deserve to be suffering like you are. I’ve been keeping my promise, Ed. I’ve been watching out for Al like he was my own little brother…but I’ve got to admit, I don’t know what’s going to happen here in the coming months. It’s getting really scary for everyone._

_Keep in touch, Fullmetal Alchemist!_

_Harry_

Ed re-read the penultimate line Harry wrote with concern. _‘It’s getting really scary for everyone?’ How so? I guess I’d better read Al’s next, he’ll clarify everything…_

_Dear Brother,_

_You sound like a superhero; you know that, right? I think it’s great, how you’re helping everyone back in Amestris, even if you find it kind of time-consuming. You’re doing it for the greater good, after all. I wish I could be there, by your side, Ed, but I know you didn’t want me to not go to Hogwarts. I’m kind of wishing I didn’t listen to you, though, with all that’s been happening here. I’ll get to that in a minute._

_What?? He knew about magic? How? That’s really weird—how were we so in the dark about Hogwarts and about all things magic and all of that if the rest of the world knows everything?? That is so confusing! I could ask Professor Dumbledore about that if you’d like me to. Maybe he can clear all of this up for us._

_Lockhart’s gotten worse. I’ll let Harry tell you about what happened to him at the Quidditch match, but let me tell you, it was bad. That guy seriously doesn’t know what he’s doing._

_I’ll let Hermione tell you about our alchemy lessons, but just letting you know, we have not been working on that very much lately because of class work and…other things._

_Ok, let me just get right to the point: something is attacking students here at Hogwarts, Ed. So far, two people have been petrified (forced into a coma-like state in which their entire body becomes sickeningly stiff and immobile…like they’re dead), and there’s been talk that it’s only going to get a lot worse. No one knows who or what exactly is attacking the students…but we do know one thing. It has to do with the Chamber of Secrets. After the first attack, there were some words discovered on one of the walls of one of the corridors in the school. It read, ‘THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED; ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.’ That definitely means that someone in the school is causing these attacks to happen, even if they’re not the ones doing it themselves. Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets? If so, please let me know, Harry, Hermione, Ron and I need to know as much as possible if we’re going to figure out how to stop the attacks. This is what we know about it so far: it’s a secret chamber built in below the school by Salazar Slytherin, one of the four original creators of Hogwarts. Its original use was to hold a monster in there, one that would help ‘cleanse’ the school of all non-pureblood wizards and witches—aka, Muggle-borns like Hermione, or half-breeds like you, me and Harry, Ed. The trick is, though, that not just anyone could release the monster. Only the Heir of Slytherin can set it to attack the non-pureblood wizards and witches in the school._

_Not everyone in the school believes the Chamber actually exists, but I think I do. It makes sense, everything that’s happening. And you know what, Ed? I think that what Harry and I are hearing (by the way, those voices I told you about that I could hear and Hermione could not? Harry can hear them, too…but no one else. Just the two of us) is the monster from the Chamber of Secrets. Now the question is: what kind of monster would that be, that only a few select people can hear its presence?_

_I know you can’t be, and that you don’t want to be…but I really wish you were here, Ed. I miss you so much more than you can imagine, Brother._

_Hope you’re doing well, Big Brother,_

_Al_

_Dear Edward,_

_No doubt Al and Harry’s letters were absolutely filled with a bunch of gruesome stories about the Chamber of Secrets. Well, I’m not going to drag that story into the ground as much as they have, I promise. I will, however, let you know that I’ve come up with a plan to find out whether or not Malfoy could possibly be the heir of Slytherin. Of course we all have our suspicions—I mean, really, you met his father. The apple does not fall far from the tree, right? Not that I’m jumping to conclusions or anything like that, however, I want to find out for sure. Malfoy would brag about being in such a high and powerful position constantly to his Slytherin friends, don’t you think? We definitely think so, and that’s why we’re putting together a Polyjuice potion. It’s a potion that will make whoever drinks it look like a completely different person of their choice for a small amount of time. We’re going to turn into three Slytherins (Alphonse can’t participate, unfortunately, but he has definitely been a big help in making the potion) and sneak into their common room. When we get in there, we’re going to listen carefully to Malfoy, and hopefully we’ll get our answer in the time we’re down there._

_Ok, enough of that, though. I do hope you’re doing well in the military. I miss studying with you, Ed; Ron and Harry just don’t have the dedication to their studies that you had. I wish you could help me learn alchemy as well; surely Alphonse has let you know he has been teaching me a little bit here and there whenever we have the time to. I still have not been able to transmute yet, but I’m studying the diagrams and different types of circles diligently in my spare time. I hope to show you my progress sometime in the near future! I’m also going to look into taking a basic alchemy course here next year as well, if they have one to offer._

_Oh, it’s just not the same without you here, Edward! They better be treating you right in the military; if not, you should consider coming back to us. We all really miss you._

_Take care,_

_Hermione_

_Hey, Ed!_

_How have you been? Military been alright? Hogwarts has gone mad since you’ve left. You really should come back, at least for a little while, so that you can kick Malfoy in the butt a bit more. Maybe then there will be less attacks happening. But seriously, if anyone could make this place a bit more cheerful, it’d be you. It’s been dead depressing this entire year because of the whole Chamber of Secrets mess going on. You’ve probably heard more than enough about that, though, so I’m not going to write an entire letter about that. I repeat, that’d be dead depressing._

_Instead, I want to ask you about the military. Why did you think you would find a way to fix yours and Al’s bodies through that? I mean, I know you said something about research and all that, but from the sounds of it, you’ve been doing a lot of errand-running instead of researching. If you could, would you ever come back to Hogwarts? I think everyone would be really happy if you came back, and I’m sure Dumbledore would be willing to help you and Al come up with something. I don’t know how much he knows about alchemy, but then again, he knows everything, doesn’t he?_

_Hope you’re doing ok. Sorry I don’t have much to write about, but you know me. I’m no writer, that’s Hermione’s job._

_Miss you, buddy,_

_Ron_

_Dearest Fullmetal Alchemist, sir!_

_Your comic relief has arrived! This is Gred and Forge here (aka Fred and George—we honestly considered writing two separate letters to you, but then again they would probably say the exact same thing, now, wouldn’t they?), reporting for duty! What can we do for you Majorly-ness?_

_But no, seriously, how have you been, buddy? Military treating you all right? It’s so weird, imagining you as a soldier of some sort (to be honest, we’re still not sure what you are there…). I doubt you let them stick you in some sort of itchy uniform, you’re much too thick-headed for that, aren’t you? Still wearing that gaudy bright red one with the weird snakey-symbol on it? You be careful with an outfit like that, nowadays people’ll mistake you for the Heir of Slytherin! Speaking of, did Harry tell you that people are starting to think he’s the Heir himself? Isn’t that bloody crazy? He’s not even in that house! I tell you, people believe anything they hear nowadays…then again, that may be something we can use to our advantage someday soon, if they’re beliefs spread Hogwarts-wide. Do us all a favor and don’t warn Harry, alright?_

_You need to be here, Ed. You’re the second-best thing that can lift the spirits of the entire school with just one outburst (other than us, of course). Plus, Malfoy could use a good kick in the arse, what with his snotty attitude towards all of the attacks going on recently. Gets on our last nerve, he does. Only you could shut him up, Mister Fullmetal Fists of Fury._

_Next time we right, we’ll send you a Hogwarts toilet seat. Wanted to this time, but poor little Nova would’ve probably collapsed halfway across the English Channel. Which would not have been very good, I suppose. We could’ve fished her out for you, though…eventually._

_Take care of yourself, Major!_

_The Epic Weasley Twins_

Edward’s chest hurt from laughing out loud at Fred and George’s letter. That was exactly what he needed to see to cheer him up. But the whole Chamber of Secrets issue going on…what was that all about? Ed wanted nothing more than to go straight back to Hogwarts and see the issue himself. But he knew that his presence would only make things worse, despite what everyone said in their letters. If Malfoy really was behind all of the attacks, Ed would only make him angrier and would therefore put Hermione, Al and Harry in more danger. That was the last thing he wanted to happen…

But at the same time as having something new to worry about, Ed also had a new idea come out of his friend’s letters. A new idea that would help him can Damien Carey quickly and efficiently.

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Mustang was not amused.

“That’s not going to work and you know it, Fullmetal.”

“Wanna bet?” Ed said, crossing his arms as he stood in front of the Colonel’s desk back at HQ the next day. “This guy just wants to stay out of sight and on the run. There’s no point in letting him keep running if we can just trap him in his darkness and cage him in it.”

“Like he’ll be so stupid, Fullmetal,” Mustang said, rolling his eyes. “Even if I did manage to get all of the streetlights on one particular street shut off for the entire night, no runaway criminal would be stupid enough to flock to that one area of the city.”

“Actually…” Armstrong piped up from the back of the room, “…it makes sense. After all, right before we discovered the Brigadier General, Carey was only targeting one section of light at a time. It was only when he realized that he was not going to be able to pull off blacking out a whole street because of Scar that he retreated. Before then, however, every lamp in the area was dimming out.”

“You see?” Ed said to Mustang. “This crazy practically lives in what he transmutes, like a monster!”

“Let’s not get crazy, here, Fullmetal,” Mustang said, raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t Hogwarts.”

“Shut up,” Ed growled but nonetheless backed down. Mustang sat back down in his seat for a moment, and then finally looked over at Seargent Fury.

“Can you make that happen? Black out a whole street for the night?”

“Oh yeah,” Fury said. “The streetlamps are only connected by city block, not in a whole grouping of zones. The way the map is set up allows for each street to have no more than six full blocks in it, making it easy to find a street with a whole number of blocks to shut off.”

Edward smirked at Mustang, who sighed heavily.

“Fine, do your worst,” he finally consented to Ed and Armstrong. He glared at Edward once more before he left, however, saying:

“If you die, though, Fullmetal, I’m _not_ in charge of your paperwork.”

It was back on patrol for Armstrong and Edward that night, only this time they only focused on the one blacked-out street and they began their mission split-up (much to Edward’s relief). Most of the night was relatively uneventful, but occasionally a light would flicker in Edward’s vision, making him stop in his tracks. Only when he began to here footsteps retreating fast did he know he had finally found his criminal of the night.

“There’s no use trying to run, Carey!” Ed called out into the alleyway he had stopped in front of. The footfalls ceased, and suddenly a great burst if light hit the streetlamp behind Edward, and in the light he could see a tall, black-haired, green-eyed man with his arms folded before him.

“Oh,” Damien Carey said with a laugh. “You’re just a kid! Well then…”

He slapped his palms upon his forearms again, and the light vanished. Ed furrowed his brow and slammed his hands back onto the ground, shooting the light back on with a loud spark.

“Don’t underestimate me.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Damien said with an evil grin. “Anyway, I’ve heard of you. You’re supposed to be some prodigy alchemist, right? Elric, wasn’t it? You’re nothing to me.”

Ed narrowed his eyes:

“What’s the point in running anyway? Wherever you go, the military will know.”

“I’m not just running away,” Damien said with a wrinkle of his nose. “Not that you would understand, kid.”

“Then where do you think you’re going exactly?” Ed said with a smirk. “If you’re looking for HQ, you’re going in the wrong direction.”

“Why the hell would I want to go there?” Damien said, rolling his eyes. “I’m leaving the country, of course. Going back to the place where I belong, a place you probably haven’t even heard of, boy.”

“Try me,” Edward growled, locking eyes with the former Onyx Alchemist. Damien raised an eyebrow.

“…Fine. I’m headed to Hogwarts.”

Ed almost choked in shock. _What?? Ok, whoa, wait; remain cool, you’re on a mission, Elric._

"You're trying to get to Hogwarts?" Edward said with a laugh. "You've got a long way to go, buddy!"

"You don't think I know that, you little smartass?" Damien said with a growl. Ed glared at him:

"Don't call me 'little'...and what's that supposed to mean?"

"I went there," the former State Alchemist said with an evil grin. Edward stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening slightly in alarm. _This is supposed to be a magic-less world; why is every adversary I meet a freaking wizard like me??_

"I completed a full seven-year education there before coming back here and joining the military. I know exactly where in Britain that school is located. I know far more about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry than you will ever know, Edward Elric."

Edward locked his jaw into place in order to keep any more expressions of shock off of it. _If this guy really is a wizard,_ he thought in slight terror, _then he'll have a wand in his coat, no doubt. And if he uses it, I will have no way to properly block his spells. There's no taking down a wizard of that skill down...unless I can keep him distracted._

"...I know enough about Hogwarts to know this: you were in Slytherin, weren't you?"

Damien Carey raised an amused eyebrow at Ed.

"Of course I was; the other houses were filled with weaklings and were not worthy of my power. Not only was I in Slytherin, but I was the leader of the House. I was the best of my year, hands-down."

"Professor Snape must've loved you," Ed remarked, to which Carey raised both of his eyebrows in shock.

"How young do you think I am, boy? Severus Snape was not the head of Slytherin when I went to school. We were classmates."

Edward could not keep his jaw from dropping at this statement. This meeting was just getting more and more ironic by the millisecond.

" _What_?"

"You heard me,” Damien said impatiently. “We were constantly in competition all throughout school. Even when I started down the path of Alchemy, Snape saw fit to follow in my footsteps, just to out-do me. The idiot was always the best at Potions, though, he was stupid to delve into Alchemy...even though—and I will never forgive him for this—he managed to get a higher NEWT score than me in our Advanced Alchemy class our sixth year. I never knew how, but the bastard did it...nobody ever gets an 'Outstanding' on Professor Hawkeye's course!"

"Hawkeye?" Ed couldn’t help saying in surprise. Damien nodded roughly:

"Eberard Hawkeye, possibly one of the oldest and greatest alchemy mentors in the world. He and Snape got along quite well in our sixth year. I wholeheartedly believe that was the cause of Severus' perfect final score in the class."

_Snape is an alchemist...make a note of that, that may come in handy for Al to know in the future...that and the fact that Hogwarts has a course in Alchemy. Why didn't Dumbledore tell us?? And his name is Hawkeye...could he be related to First Lieutenant Hawkeye?_

"So you can't be that great of an Alchemist if you allowed yourself to get beat by a Potions master, eh?" Ed said, trying to egg him on down the road of Alchemy in order to keep the option of wandwork out of the question. Damien gritted his teeth together in anger.

"That greasy-haired bastard cheated his way into a perfect score! He doesn't deserve the knowledge he gained from Hawkeye's class!"

"And you _do_?" Ed said, standing up straighter as he looked Damien firmly in the eye. "You—a murderous, law-breaking traitor to the country you once served faithfully—deserve the title of an alchemist more so than Severus Snape?"

_Whoa...am I actually defending Snape here?_

"Yes, I do!"

"Like hell you do!"

"As if a little kid such as yourself has the right to dictate who is and is not a true Alchemist?!"

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME LITTLE!!" Ed screamed as his hands made contact with the hard ground beneath his feet, transmuting the concrete into a large, rock-hard fist and making it ram straight into Damien Carey's stomach, sending him sailing roughly into the brick marking the end of the dank alleyway behind him.

" _Shit_ —I didn't even see you draw up a circle, you little brat!!" Damien yelled, folding his arms together and gripping his skin tightly. Sparks lit brightly at the former Onyx Alchemist's fingertips as he lifted his hands apart and held them out in front of him, palms facing Edward. Before Edward's eyes the light of the afternoon sun was being twisted and funneled into the criminal's hands. Thinking fast, Ed clapped his hands together once again:

"A real alchemist isn't limited to the confinements of a Transmutation Circle, Carey."

Ed then slammed his palms into the wall of the alleyway, sending the bricks tumbling and cascading down toward Damien's still-working transmutation, shutting down the black hole he had created with a swift avalanche onto the man's outstretched arms. Damien cried out and collapsed beneath the heavy red bricks, struggling to free himself from the results of the makeshift rockslide.

"That's impossible...I was never taught that!"

"Neither was I, actually," Ed said with a smirk. "Call it a gift, if you want."

Damien struggled for a moment longer, and then suddenly stopped and grinned evilly at Edward.

"No, I don't think I will actually... _Bombardarum_!"

"Wha—??"

Before Ed could escape, Damien had sent the bricks trapping his body up into the air in a massive explosion. Ed rapidly clapped and pressed his hands onto the concrete once more, shielding himself from the blows of the brick. Damien laughed loudly:

"Hasn't Flitwick taught you that spell yet, Elric?"

"Nice trick," Ed said as he slammed his palms back onto the ground, morphing up into deadly spikes this time and sending them fast in Damien's direction. "I like mine better, though."

Damien quickly dodged Edward's attack, and then pointed his wand in his direction.

" _Stupefy_!"

Ed ducked beneath the spell's laser, cursing under his breath. _I've got to get the wand out of his hand now._

“INCOMING, EDWARD ELRIC!”

With an ungodly bang, Armstrong’s giant fists made contact with the ground below them, cracking the concrete and sending Damien off of his feet and onto his back, his wand flying out of his hand in the process. Edward swiftly transmuted a fist out of the undamaged brick wall to the left of him and confiscated Carey’s magical weapon. Ed grinned:

“Perfect timing, Major!”

“Well, of course it is!” Armstrong said as he kept sending epic feats of alchemic power towards the unprepared criminal. “Great punctuality is something that has been passed down the Armstrong family for _generations_!”

Moments later Damien was surrounded by military personal, cuffed, and shoved into the back of a car on its way back to Central. Though his glare was threatening, Edward was almost disappointed in the fact that, once his wand was taken from him, Damien Carey ceased to be very much of a challenge to take down. This made the young State Alchemist wonder if, back when he was in the military himself, Carey secretly used his magic much more than he ever used his alchemy. He furrowed his brow in concern at the thought, wondering how he did that with the Ministry of Magic constantly watching, but then he realized that the only reason he himself could not use magic was because he was under the age of seventeen _…What a stupid rule. I should be excused from that altogether_.

But then Edward realized he was, for alchemy was simply a form of magic. He closed his eyes tightly, his head beginning to hurt due to how fast it was spinning with countless questions and thoughts brought on because of the night’s events. As he watched Damien Carey being driven away to be incarcerated for good, Edward took the rouge Slytherin’s wand into his hands and snapped it in half, watching with satisfaction as it glowed a dark crimson red for a split second before surrendering to its final demise at last.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Mustang looked curiously at Edward as he silently entered his office the next day.

“You’ve decided against shouting about your glorious victory last night?” the Colonel questioned curiously, to which Edward nodded once.

“I’ve got too much on my mind to care,” he said with a shrug. But then he grinned suddenly.

“So who’s the bio-alchemist you were going to take me to today, Colonel?”

Mustang nodded and opened the file folder he had upon his desk.

“I thought I’d introduce you to a Chimera researcher in the city; Shou Tucker, the Sewing-Life Alchemist. He got his State Alchemist’s certification two years ago when he created a Chimera that could speak.”

“It could _speak_?” Ed said in shock. “You mean it talked like a human? A _Chimera_?!”

“That would appear to be the case,” Mustang said, glancing up at Ed. “I wasn’t in charge at the time, so I’ve never actually seen it. It could understand human speech, and it spoke…”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before continuing.

“But all it said was…’ _I want to die_.’ After that, it refused to eat and died not long after.”

Edward stared at Mustang as he stood and replaced the file folder back where it belonged on its shelf before turning back towards Edward.

“Well, anyway, let’s go meet him and see what kind of person he is…”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

 


	10. A Serpentis Os

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are starting to get darker than ever...for BOTH of the Elric brothers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all things Harry Potter (c) J.K. Rowling  
> all things Fullmetal Alchemist (c) Hiromu Arakawa

~Chapter Nine: _A Serpentis Os_ ~

 

 

“ _Harry!_ ” Hermione shrieked, scrambling out of the bathroom stall she and Ron were cramped in to help Alphonse stand back up after falling in shock. “You gave us such a fright—come in—how’s your arm?”

“Fine,” Harry said, grinning and patting Al up on the shoulder before squeezing into the stall. “Sorry ‘bout that, Al.”

An old cauldron was perched on the toilet, and a crackling from under the rim told Harry they had lit a fire beneath it.

“We’d’ve come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion,” Ron explained. “We’ve decided this is the safest place to hide it.”

Harry started to tell them about Colin, but Hermione interrupted.

“We already know—we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That’s why we decided we’d better get going—“

“The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better,” snarled Ron. “D’you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after that Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin.”

“There’s something else,” began Harry, looking up at Al. “Unless you told them everything about last night already…?”

“No,” Al said guiltily. “I promised Dumbledore I wouldn’t say anything…but _you_ didn’t promise him anything, so go on.”

“Wait,” Hermione said, tossing one last fistful of knotgrass and throwing it into the potion before turning to look at Alphonse. “You snuck out to see him last night?”

Alphonse looked at her uneasily, recognizing the tone of her voice to be one of distaste for breaking the rules.

“Maybe…”

“Alphonse!”

“Come on, Hermione, I can’t sleep anyway! Might as well do _something_ with my time…”

“You could’ve woken me up, y’know…” Ron said with a frown. Al shrugged:

“Sorry, I didn’t want you to get in trouble too.”

“Yeah, Ron; he ended up getting caught by Dumbledore,” Harry said, wincing at Hermione’s shocked expression.

“You _what_??” she nearly shrieked.

“Man, I missed _everything_!” Ron said, to which Harry and Al cracked up at the aghast expression Hermione shot him. “Anyway, go on, Harry.”

“Right; Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night.”

Ron and Hermione looked up, amazed. Harry told them everything Dobby had told him—or, rather, hadn’t told him. Hermione and Ron listened with their mouths open.

“And then that’s when Al came in,” Harry continued, after which the younger Elric brother assisted the scarred boy in telling the rest of the night’s events as much as he could without feeling as if he was breaking his promise to Dumbledore.

“The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _before_?” Hermione said once they had finished.

“This settles it,” Ron said in a triumphant voice. “Lucius Malfoy must’ve opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he’s told dear old Draco how to do it. It’s obvious. Wish Dobby’d told you what kind of monster’s in there, though. I want to know how come nobody’s noticed it sneaking around the school.”

“I want to know why it seems like only me and Harry can hear it,” Al spoke up. He froze when he saw that the other three were staring at him after stating this, though. “…What did I say?” he asked nervously.

“Nothing,” Harry said with a frown. “It’s just…that is a really good question. It _must_ be the monster we’re hearing, Al, you’re right about that. But why can’t anyone else hear it?”

“That’s another question we’ll need to ask Malfoy,” Ron said, to which Harry and Al wholeheartedly agreed.

“Well…” Hermione began, and then looked up at the ceiling, contemplating something for a long moment before shaking her head. “Never mind me; I don’t know why I thought of that.”

“What were you thinking?” Al asked, but Hermione just shook her head and turned away from him to pour a bag of dead lacewings on top of the leeches in the pot. Ron took the empty bag from her once she was through with it and crumpled it up as he said to Harry:

“So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm…” He shook his head. “You know what, Harry? If he doesn’t stop trying to save your life he’s going to kill you.”

Alphonse had already known just how fast news spread through Hogwarts from his and his own brother’s encounter with being the center of all gossip. However, the news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had put everyone in the school into a silent state of panic. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin in Charms, was beyond distraught, but Al felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statures. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

The sad thing was that Al knew Ginny truly was having horrible night terrors about the attacks. However, whenever Al tried to be a good friend and talk to her about why she thinks these nightmares are haunting her, she suddenly goes silent, or even mutters inaudibly about having to go somewhere and leaving Alphonse’s presence altogether. Al was beginning to worry that for some reason, Ginny was keeping something dangerous that was going on outside of the attacks a huge secret from him and her family. Eventually she began to avoid him altogether; it had been over two weeks since he and Ginny had studied or even hung out together.

In the second week of December Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Al strongly considered going back to Granny Pinako’s house for the holidays, but quickly had his mind changed both by his own brother (who wrote in his most recent letter to Al: _Don’t you dare go back to Resembool for Christmas; you’ll miss out on all the Wizard’s Chess and, even more importantly, you’ll miss seeing McGonagall drink way too much ‘Christmas cheer!’_ ) and by the fact that Harry, Hermione and Ron were all staying at Hogwarts themselves. They had all heard that Malfoy was staying, which struck them as very suspicious; besides, the holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him.

Unfortunately, the potion was only half-finished.

“We’re only going to find the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin in Snape’s private stores…” Hermione informed them all, looking up from the potion with a grim expression. “We’ll have to break in to get them.”

“I think I’d rather face Slytherin’s monster than let Snape catch me robbing his office…” Harry said with a shake of his head, to which Al agreed vigorously.

“What we need is a diversion,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Then one of us can sneak into the office and take what we need.”

The others looked at her nervously.

“I think either you or I had better do the actual stealing Hermione,” Al pointed out. “Harry or Ron could get expelled if they get into any more trouble…”

He looked down at his big metal body, then back at Hermione. If he could have any sort of facial expressions in his current state of being, Al would have attempted a mischievous grin.

“Actually, I have a better idea!”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Ed wondered just how he had gotten so distracted from his research. Usually it was Alphonse that was the distraction, but his little brother was not here right now. And yet here he was, trying to gather up enough strength to toss a twenty five-pound dog off of his backside as Shou Tucker’s little girl, Nina giggled from the other side of the room.

“Hey chief, I’m here to pick you up,” a voice from the doorway spoke. Ed could smell the light scent of smoke begin to permeate the air and knew Mustang had sent Second Lieutenant Havoc over. He struggled to look up at the man from his furry entrapment.

“…Mind if I ask what you’re doing?” Havoc said with humor as Ed finally tossed the dog off of him and stood up straight.

“ _Uh_ , well…I guess you could say I’m just taking a little break from my research.”

Shou Tucker looked at him curiously as he spoke:

“So did you find any useful data?”

Ed was about to answer when his big dog, Alexander, pawed Edward back to the ground once more. Tucker let out a soft chuckle and invited Ed to return the next day, much to little Nina’s great delight.

Ed had taken to watching the skies frequently, especially after replying to one of Al or one of his other friends’ letters. He was looking out the window as Havoc drove him back to HQ and only looked at the man when he inquired:

“So Edward; you going anywhere for Christmas?”

“Pssh,” Ed replied, rolling his eyes and turning back to the window. Havoc raised an eyebrow, muttering that he’ll take that as a no. Ed remained silent for a moment before explaining:

“I’m agnostic. The only reason I would bother going back to Resembool for the holidays is if Al was there, and I told him he should stay up at Hogwarts for Christmas. He’d enjoy spending time with his friends and seeing some snow than being stuck in this heat wave we’ve been having across Amestris.”

 _That and he’s got an Heir of Slytherin to sack_ , he silently finished in his mind.

“Hey, didn’t he go up there to visit you last year, though?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Why don’t you go up and visit him this year?”

This suggestion took Ed by surprise. That was actually a really good idea, after all. He remembered just how much Al’s appearance during Christmastime at Hogwarts absolutely made his day—heck, not just that, but his brother’s appearance helped him get over a huge wave of depression he was going through at the time. He remembered being extremely thankful to Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall for arranging such a reunion…

But this time was different. The school was a dangerous place, a lot of scary things were going on. Would Ed’s appearance there only make everything worse for Al? He remembered the looks both he and his little brother received at King’s Cross station, and Ed was tired of hearing about some of the comments people have made to Alphonse during the course of his first year at Hogwarts. What would they say to Ed’s reappearance at the school? What would the Heir of Slytherin say—or rather, _do_. He and Al were technically half-breeds (they still were not sure if their mother had any magical blood in her…). Would Al become a new target upon Ed’s return to the school?

Too many questions, far too many questions.

“That’s probably not a good idea…I made a lot of enemies last year,” Ed explained, “And the last thing I want to do to Al is make his first year at Hogwarts even more of a living Hell than it’s been already.”

Havoc frowned slightly in confusion but said nothing more than, “I see,” much to Ed’s relief. He did not leave the Christmastime conversation there, however.

“You should at least send him something, y’know.”

Ed cocked his head to the side:

“…Yeah, you’re probably right. But what should I send him?”

“Sheesh, Ed, how should I know?” Havoc said with a laugh. “You’re his brother. If you don’t know what he likes, then nobody knows.”

Ed said nothing in response; Al liked books, like himself, and cats, and alchemy, and now, magic. Well, and sweets, but sending him candy would do him no good since he could not eat anything. Ed racked his brain for ideas for the rest of the car ride, and then finally gave up, telling himself he still had time to think about that. After all, he still has not received his most recent letter yet, either.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon’s lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindor’s work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. All in all it all seemed like a normal Potions class, with everyone just going about their business, trying to get their classwork done. Little did anyone know that Alphonse had drawn two intricate Transmutation circles beneath two particular student’s desks just before class began. One lay beneath Harry’s own cauldron…

And one was underneath Draco Malfoy’s.

Harry’s Swelling Solution was far too runny, but he had his mind on more important things. He and Al were waiting for Hermione’s signal, and he hardly listened as Snape paused to sneer at his watery potion. When Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville, Hermione caught Harry’s eye and nodded. Al stifled a chuckle as Harry looked behind him at the door, where Al stood behind, a Transmutation circle drawn upon the floor beneath him. As soon as he caught Harry’s eye, he placed three of Fred’s Filibuster fireworks from within his backpack onto the circle and placed his hands onto the chalk next to him. With this Transmutation, Al sent the fireworks first to Harry (where they appeared under his desk), who prodded them with his wand before nodding back at Al to send them to the Transmutation circle located right beneath Malfoy’s cauldron. The firework was just beginning to fizz and sputter when it disappeared from Harry’s desk altogether and landed right on target in Malfoy’s cauldron.

“Duck!” Harry mouthed to Ron as Malfoy’s cauldron exploded, showering the whole class. Al stood behind the door to the classroom laughing his metallic butt off as people shrieked as splashes of Swelling Solution hit them. Malfoy got more than a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate—Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what happened. Just before the greasy-haired Professor could reach his desk, Harry rapidly wiped away the chalked-on Transmutation circle with the sleeve of his robes. He knew the one beneath Malfoy’s cauldron would be discovered, but the whole point in Al creating the diversion was to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble, so he made sure to remove any evidence pointing to them. Through the confusion, Harry saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape’s office.

“Silence! SILENCE!” Snape roared. “Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft—when I find out who did this—“

Harry watched as more than half the class lumbered up to Snape’s desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffed-up lips. As this chaos was happening, he saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

“Someone’s got to get rid of the other circle,” she hissed at Harry as she passed by him, “Or else Al may be expelled.”

“On it,” Ron whispered back, glancing at Snape’s desk once again before ducking beneath the desks, making his way silently across the room towards Malfoy’s cauldron. Al peeked through the small window in the door at Ron, wondering upon what his red-headed friend was doing. The plan was for him to get caught, wasn’t it? Unless they had changed the plan behind his back…?

Ron finally found the Transmutation circle and rapidly wiped off the chalk, quickly making his way back to the other side of the room. He immediately froze once he saw Snape’s long black robes sweep past him, his eyes bulging in fright as the furious Professor walked over to Malfoy’s cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the fireworks. There was a sudden hush.

Ron quickly stood back by Harry, the blood still obviously drained from his face and he looked at his friend and mouthed, _that was a close one!!_

 _Did you get rid of it?_ Harry mouthed back, to which Ron nodded.

“If I ever find out who threw this,” Snape whispered, “I shall _make sure_ that person is expelled.”

Harry arranged his face into what he hoped was a puzzled expression. Snape was looking right at him, and the bell that rang ten minutes later could not have been more welcome.

“He thought it was me,” Harry told Al through the fit of laughter he and Ron had been holding since the end of class. As the four of them hurried back to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, they all congratulated Al on his ingenious plan, telling him how proud Ed would have been of him if he were there.

“Even though, if it weren’t for me and Ron,” Hermione pointed out, “You probably would have been expelled.”

“I know, thanks for that,” Al said for the umpteenth time. “I didn’t think Snape would react _that_ drastically.”

“You obviously don’t Snape that well,” Hermione said as she threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

“Yeah…but still, that was the first time I had attempted to control two transitional arrays from a completely separate array in a completely different room! How cool was _that_?”

“It would be much cooler if I understood a single word you said,” Ron muttered, offering Al an apologetic grin before turning back to Hermione and the potion.

“It’ll be ready in two weeks,” she said happily.

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“Why does your coat have that on the back of it?” Nina piped up from her spot on the floor, rifling through a random picture book as she waited patiently for Ed to answer her question. The Fullmetal Alchemist sighed, pressing his lips together as he attempted to think of a good way to explain the Flamel Cross to a little girl. He ended up just shrugging and saying:

“I thought it looked cool. Plus the black and red look good together.”

_Thought it ‘looked cool.’ Haven’t I told that lie to somebody before…?_

“Oh. Ok,” Nina said, closing the book and adding it to a pile Ed had made next to him. He sighed in quiet annoyance as he took it away from the alchemy books and moved to put it back on its proper spot on the shelf.

“What’re you looking for anyway?” Nina asked, ever curious.

“I really can’t tell you, Nina,” Ed said, sighing as he turned to face her. “It’s not something for little kids to know about.”

“But you’re just a little kid too…” she began but stopped when Ed narrowed his eyes.

“Watch it,” he said, the tone of his voice making her giggle instead of cringe. Ed sighed again, looking towards his growing pile of books and his limited notes. Though Shou Tucker’s library and research was extensive, his and Al’s case was a bit more complicated that anything the alchemist had worked on before, making this form of biological alchemy something much more and therefore slightly out of Tucker’s division. Ed was stubborn, though, so instead of walking out of the house and completely giving up, he decided to stay and read more, if anything to at least keep lonely little Nina company while her dad cooped himself up in his office, working diligently on god knows what…

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

“Gather round, gather round!”

Alphonse, Hermione, Ron and Harry moved with the large group surrounding the dueling stage, approaching carefully as Professor Lockhart emerged atop it to begin their dueling lesson for the night.

“Can everyone see me?” he said, grandiosely swishing his cape as he spun around to look at the entire crowd around him. “Can you all hear me?”

There was a pause, and then he flashed them all one of his award-winning smiles. “Excellent!”

Ron and Harry looked at each other and rolled their eyes as he made a show of removing his cape before finally beginning:

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions—for full details, see my published works.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” said Lockhart, flashing them another wide smile. Ron made a quiet noise of distaste, looking at Harry.

“This was _your_ idea,” he whispered pointedly.

“Was not,” Harry defended himself. “You’re the one who got all excited when Seamus pointed out the poster.”

“Well, I didn’t know that Snape would be here,” Ron hissed. “What if he—“

“Guys,” Alphonse whispered. “Not here.”

“Right,” Hermione spoke quietly. “Besides, we got rid of the circles under the desks. The three of you are going to be _fine_ , now pay attention!”

“Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry—you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him,” Lockhart said with a wink. “Never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be great if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered to Alphonse and Harry.

Snape’s upper lip was curling, an expression upon his face that was merely one step below murderous. Al had to give Lockhart props for keeping up his genuine smile; if Snape had been looking at _him_ like that he’d been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He continued to watch with interest as the two professors turned to face each other and bowed, then raised their wands like swords in front of them.

“On the count of three,” Lockhart told the silent crowd, “We will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. Alphonse found himself taking a cautionary step backwards.

“One—two—three—“

“ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and quite a few of the other Slytherins cheered. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. “Do you think he’s alright?” she squealed through her fingers.

“Who cares?” said Harry and Ron together.

“I’m just glad he didn’t fall into _us_ ,” Alphonse agreed, peering over his friends as Lockhart got unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

“Well, there you have it!” he said, tottering back onto the platform. “That was a Disarming Charm—as you see, I’ve lost my wand—ah, thank you, Miss Brown—yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don’t mind me saying, it was pretty obvious- ah- what you were about to do; if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy.”

“Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students to block unfriendly spells, Professor,” Snape said in his typical low sneering voice, one eyebrow cocked in amusement at Lockhart’s sudden flusteredness.

“…An excellent suggestion, Professor Snape!” the red-haired professor struggled to quickly recover, turning to face away from the Potions master and scour the audience for help. “Ah... Let’s have a volunteer pair! Um, Potter, Weasley, how about you?”

Harry and Ron both took a step forward towards the stage, but were halted by Snape’s voice:

“Weasley’s wand causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house?”

He stepped back, making to get off of the stage, his hands raised in a sarcastically wicked half-shrug.

“Malfoy, perhaps?” he said, finally turning his back towards Harry and roughly gesturing towards the fair-haired boy to hurry up onto the stage with Harry. Lockhart slowly made his way off of the dueling stage as well, bending to speak briefly in Harry’s ear: “Good luck, Potter.”

“This is going to end badly,” Al whispered to Hermione, who could only watch in terror as Harry and Draco held their wands at the ready, both of them looking equally as determined to defeat the other.

“When I count to three,” Lockhart commanded, “Cast your charms to disarm your opponent- only to disarm. We don’t want any accidents here. One, two—“

“ _Everte statium!_ ”

Harry stumbled roughly as Malfoy’s spell hit him, mentally checking to make sure everything still seemed to be working before regaining his stance. He wasted no time and pointed his wand straight at Malfoy:

“ _Rictusempra!_ ”

A jet of silver light hit Malfoy in the stomach and he tumbled over himself, landing pathetically in front of his head of house. Snape merely rolled his eyes at him, grabbed him by his robe and shoved him back before Harry.

“ _I said disarm only!_ ” Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the crowd as Malfoy quickly raised his wand back up.

“ _Serpensortia!_ ”

The end of Malfoy’s wand exploded. Alphonse, Ron and Hermione watched from a distance, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, falling heavily onto the floor between Harry and Malfoy. Alphonse heard a low, breathy voice yelp out in alarm and he looked rapidly between the two duelers, trying to place the voice. He froze in an instant when he realized that the voice he was hearing was not breathy, rather…but more like a hiss. Al turned his attention to the snake in front of Harry, staring as he heard it speak irritably:

“ _What is happening here? Why am I—what—who are you people?!_ ”

It raised its head to strike as it panicked further, refraining from going through with its threat when Harry quickly said:

“ _Nonono, wait, it’s alright! No one’s going to hurt you, don’t strike_.”

“ _Why shouldn’t I?_ ” the snake challenged, looking into the crowd towards. Enraged, cursing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin Finch-Fletchley and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike. Al watched desperately as Harry took a threatening step towards the snake and shouted: “ _Leave him alone!_ ”

Miraculously, the snake slumped to the floor, docile as a thick, black garden hose, its eyes now on Harry. Though it looked as if the worst had passed, Al could tell that Harry’s strict commandment would only hold the creature’s attention for a short while, and he gripped at his wand in silent anticipation, mentally preparing himself should he have to go up there to help Harry control the snake.

“… _Vipera evenesca_ ,” Snape spoke with a wave of his wand, making the snake vanish in a small puff of black smoke. Alphonse sighed in relief, and then looked around in confusion. Everyone was staring at Harry, even Snape, though his expression was rather unexpected: It was a shrewd and calculating look, and it was obvious that Harry did not like it. _Why are they looking at him like that, though…?_ Al thought, majorly confused.

“You understood him, didn’t you?” Hermione whispered to Al. Alphonse looked at her.

“Of course I did,” he said. “He spoke loud and clear, telling the snake to lay off…why, could you not hear him or something?”

Hermione looked at him in utter shock.

“Oh god,” she spoke softly. “You’re one, too.”

Minutes later, Ron and Hermione had steered both Al and Harry out of the hall. As they went through the doors, the people on either side drew away as though they were frightened of catching something. Harry and Al did not have a clue what was going on, and neither Ron nor Hermione explained anything until they had dragged him all the way up to the empty Gryffindor common room. Ron pushed Harry into an armchair and said, “You’re a Parselmouth. Why did you tell us?”

“You too, Alphonse,” Hermione said, looking at the boy with a concerned expression upon her face.

“I’m a what?” said Harry.

“What’s a Parselmouth, what does that mean?” Alphonse demanded.

“You can talk to snakes!” said Ron.

“I know,” said Harry. “I know. I mean, I accidentally set a python on my cousin Dudley at the

zoo once—long story—but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to—that was before I knew I was a wizard—”

“A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?” Ron repeated faintly.

“Yeah,” Harry said, looking confused. “So?”

“What does it matter that we can talk to snakes?” Alphonse asked. “I bet loads of people here can do it.”

“No, they can’t,” Hermione said. “It’s not a very common gift, guys. This is bad.”

“What’s bad?” Alphonse said fearfully, looking over at Harry, who was starting to get angry.

“What’s wrong with everyone?” he said. “Listen, if I hadn’t told that snake not to attack Justin—“

“Oh, that’s what you said to it?” Ron said. Al looked at him in disbelief.

“What do you mean?” he spoke up, defending Harry. “You were there, you heard him—“

“I heard him speaking Parseltongue,” Ron said. “Snake language? You could have been saying anything, Harry—no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something—it was creepy, you know—“

Harry gaped at him.

“I spoke a different language? But—I didn’t realize I—how can I speak a language without knowing I can?”

“This doesn’t make any sense to me,” Al said. “I heard him, you guys…it was English, I know it was, every words was perfectly understandable—“

Al froze mid-sentence, realizing that every word that came from the snake’s mouth had been easily as identifiable to him. _It’s just me, I’m the only one that understood him_ …

“Why does this all matter so much,” Harry said miserably.

“It matters,” Hermione said, looking at both him and Alphonse with a look full of concern, “because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That’s why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent.”

Harry’s mouth fell open and Alphonse looked at her equally as horrified.

“Exactly!” said Ron. “Now the whole school’s gonna think you guys are his great-great-great grandsons, or something—“

“No,” Alphonse said, stepping forward from his spot next to Harry. “No way!”

“I’m not. _We’re_ not,” Harry spoke with panic he could not quite explain.

“This is stupid,” Alphonse said, shaking his helmet, refusing to believe what his friends were trying to tell him. Hermione knitted her eyebrows together, looking back and forth between the two Parselmouths.

“He lived a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

_Blood…I want blood…_

_They all must die._

_Kill… Kill… Kill!_

_Time to kill..._

Harry stopped mid-step as he saw the shadowed figure of Alphonse standing at the bottom of the staircase in the Gryffindor common room. It was the dead of night; they were probably the only two students in the dormitory still awake. But ever since the incident with the snake a week ago—when the both of them found out that they were Parselmouths—Harry had not been able to get through a full night’s worth of sleep. He was not about to achieve that tonight, either, with the monster crawling around the school’s corridors like that.

“…We have to tell somebody, Harry,” Alphonse said, fear lacing his voice. “I hate being able to hear it and not being able to warn anyone.”

“I know what you mean,” Harry said, stopping in front of the younger boy and sighing heavily. “But who could we tell? Surely you’re not thinking of Professor Dumbledore.”

“Who else, Harry?” Alphonse said, catching himself as he heard his voice rise in panic. He made a sound that resembled clearing his throat (even though he currently had no throat to clear) and then asked again: “Who else could we tell?”

“Hermione and Ron can’t do anything about it,” Harry thought aloud. “So far they’re the only ones we’ve told…we could try Professor McGonagall, but that may be as equally bad of an idea as Dumbledore.”

Al sighed, and then paused.

“…You’re wrong.”

“Huh?” said Harry as he looked up at Alphonse.

“Hermione and Ron aren’t the only people we’ve told everything to,” the armored boy said.

_Kill…_

“I can’t just stand here and listening to that,” Harry said, rushing out of the common room.

“I’m coming with you!” Al said, clunking after the bespectacled boy as quickly but quietly as possible.

They ran down along the corridors, pausing at the end of each to listen to where the voice was travelling. In the darkness lit only by the occasional candle or oil lamp, Alphonse could feel fear settling in as he made his way through the spooky scenery alongside Harry.

_…KILL…!_

Harry stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark, much to his and Alphonse’s dismay; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane. They were halfway down the passage when Harry tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

“Harry!” Al hissed, stooping over to help Harry up. He froze suddenly when he caught sight of what the boy had fallen over. Harry stood without Al’s help, squinting to see; suddenly, he felt as though his stomach had dissolved.

“…Not good,” he whispered faintly to the stone-silent Alphonse.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock frozen on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn’t all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harry and Al had ever seen.

“It’s Nearly Headless Nick,” Al said shockedly. The ghost was no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin’s.

“We have to get out of here,” Harry said darkly, taking one, and then two steps back away from the two petrified people—or rather, student and ghost.

“But we can’t just leave them here,” Al said, to which Harry grabbed at his metal arm.

“Al,” he said, looking him urgently in the eye. “Look at who we are, the only two Parselmouths in the entire school. Look at _where_ we are, standing next to two— _two_ —victims, one for each of us. They already think we’re Slytherin’s heirs, Al, if we stay here—“

As they stood there panicking, however, a door right next to the two of them opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

“Why, it’s potty wee Potter and the little metal Elric!” cackled Peeves, knocking Harry’s glasses askew as he bounced past them.

“Peeves,” Al said exasperatedly. “Buzz of, will you?”

 _Geez, I sound like Edward now!_ he thought, remembering how Ed constantly complained about this Peeves character, telling Al how many times he nearly attempted to beat the Poltergeist because of his annoyance.

“Ooooh,” Peeves said, sarcastically acting as though he was scared of Al. “But what’s Potter and Iron Man up to? Why’re they lurking—“

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harry or Alphonse could stop him, screamed, “ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! ATTAAAACK—!!”

“ _Shut it!_ ” Harry and Alphonse yelled, both hopping to tackle the screeching Peeves to the ground and only managing to fall down themselves. Harry groaned, rubbing his head where he had inadvertedly knocked into Alphonse’s armor as he brought himself up to a sitting position. He heard Alphonse clamber back to his feet as someone came running down the hallway, no doubt alerted by Peeves’ call in the night.

“Professor McGonagall,” Alphonse spoke, his feeble voice laced with horror as he took a step back as the Transfiguration teacher and their Head of House approached, her eyes wide. Harry too scrambled to his feet, standing next to Al as he pleaded:

“Professor... I swear I didn’t—we didn’t—!”

Professor McGonagall raised her hand to Harry, cutting him off mid-sentence with what was possibly the darkest look either of the boys had ever seen before in their entire lives.

“This is out of my hands, Potter…Elric.”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

"...he can talk to snakes? What??" Ed spoke out loud to himself as he read Al's letter. "Where did _that_ come from?"

Numerous thoughts ran through his mind as he paused in his reading, for he wondered if that was something Alphonse had acquired from seeing the Gate, like he had himself. But then he shook his head; _that’s not something the Gate would cause. It doesn’t have anything to do with alchemy._

A soft hissing sound behind him startled him out of his thoughts. He spun around, looking around for the source and finding, in Mr. Tucker's beaten-down flower beds, was a small, green garden snake. Ed blinked; _how convenient_ , he thought sarcastically. _Maybe I’m a parsel-whatever too!..._

Ed looked around the yard, making sure he was alone before shaking his head in disgust at himself and kneeling down next to where the snake sat.

"...hey. Hey you, _scaley!_ ” he hissed at the snake. Nothing happened that would give Ed the impression that the creature could understand him. He laughed at himself and made to stand back up until—

_"Don't call me scaley. It's very offensive."_

"Wha—?!"

Ed leapt to his feet; the snake was now holding its head up, looking at him with expectant black eyes, it's little black tongue flitting in and out of its beaked mouth.

 _"...Can you understand me??"_ Ed said back to the snake, to which the creature nodded its green head in understanding. The young alchemist was not sure if he believed what he was witnessing or not as he ran a hand through his hair and knelt back down in front of the snake.

 _"Not gonna lie, this is kind of weird for me,"_ he told the snake as casually as possible. The snake made a weird hissing sound and threw his head back, as if laughing at Edward.

_"You say that as if I speak to humans on a daily basis. How do you think I feel, short wizard?"_

At that last sarcastic statement Edward lost it.

_"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A SHORTY, SCALEY?!!"_

_"DON'T CALL ME SCALEY!!"_ the snake hissed back, folding its body back into a striking pose. Before it could attack the annoyed State Alchemist, however, Ed clasped his hands together and pressed them against the soil, creating a hard clay barricade around the creature. He turned his back to the snake's angered hisses and picked up Al's letter, reading through the rest of it more attentively.

"Harry's one too, huh?" Ed spoke out loud to himself before folding the letter up and stuffing it into his red coat. "Guess I'd better write back soon and let Al know that all three of us are now. This whole thing just keeps getting weirder and weirder..."

 _And to be honest, I’m still not entirely sure I understand what is happening up there_ , he thought concernedly. _You better not be in any danger, Alphonse, or else I’ll have to……_

Ed glanced upwards as he felt a drop of rain hit him, and then two, and then a couple more. He squinted into the light drizzle, watching the approaching storm clouds swirl above him for a few moments before making his way up the steps to Shou Tucker’s front door. He rang the bell once, waited for a minute, and then rang it again.

“Mr. Tucker?” he spoke loudly. “Hello-oo…?”

No answer. Ed frowned, trying the doorknob and finding the door to be unlocked. He stepped into the front room, saying as he did: “Mr. Tucker? It’s me again; back to do more research...”

He frowned, peering into the gloom, wondering whether or not the man was home at all.

“Mr. Tucker…?”

 

~~*e.s.*~~

 

                                                                                


End file.
